


Extra Credit

by Jaideniv



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Football, Football | Soccer, Jean kirschtein - Freeform, M/M, Marco Bodt - Freeform, Modern AU, Multi, Nurses, Sports, bottom marco, extra credit, its about time I wrote something, jeanmarco, lets be real it aint marco bott- for no reason, marco bott - Freeform, top jean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaideniv/pseuds/Jaideniv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which over-achiever Marco takes the nurse shift at his school for extra credit and always ends up somehow looking after that big two-toned hair idiot getting thrashed on the field every week. Interactions and angst disproportionate to a high school experience ensue.</p><p>Anyone who wants to find me hit me up at jaideniv.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fan fiction I've ever written sooo...go easy on me. Constructive criticism Is welcome. 
> 
> I apparently don't get how tenses work.
> 
> Might add more characters and pairings later. My brain can't plan that far ahead just yet. Also keep in mind that this is more like a "preview" prologue chapter, the plotline really starts to kick in later on.

"Where do you want him, Bodt?"

"Just lay him down over there." I pointed to the adjacent nurse station bed.

Goddamnit; it's always been like this. Every single week he'd end up in this place with his ass beaten up and a sly grin plastered on his face. I seriously have no idea how he keeps this up. Sure, Kirstein _is_ the captain of the football team and he has to "maintain a vision of camaraderie for his team and his school" - or whatever shitty excuse he'd come up with for his weekly visit - but if he keeps this up he's gonna end up dead. And I'm just a high school junior with an A+ in Biology, not a surgeon. If he comes to me dead, I'm pretty sure he's staying dead.

Still, he did look subtly attractive each time he came, and almost always trying to not let the pain show through him. The way his face tightened as he was being laid down on the bed. I guess I'm just a sucker for the macho types. Well, as far as macho applied in his case; Jean Kirschtein with a half-pained half-humoured expression doesn't really scream "Rambo." But whatever - I was a volunteer nurse and it was my job to treat him.

I swiveled a chair and sat down next to him. "What this time Jean? Not enough passes? Shitty referee call?"

"That Eren kid."

 _Eren_. Dear God. I've never even seen him instigate anything, and yet they still go at each other throats. And if I have to go through another lecture on why it was such a big deal to "defend his honour" from that Jaeger guy, I'm just gonna grab the nearest syringe and stab myself. In the heart. While Jean watches.

I would've skipped scolding him, but the situation was just too fruitful to ignore. I started preparing bandages and antiseptic swabs, along with a dash of all-knowing wisdom. "You know," I began, dabbing the antiseptic on the swab and pressing it on his more open wounds, casually ignoring his little "oos" and "ahhs" of pain. "The civilised talk about their differences rather than beat the living shit out of each other." He winced as I pushed harder on the more serious cuts. 

"Well it's a good thing I'm -argh- not part of that little civilised club," he replied, flashing me a grin, sitting up in the process and wincing at the newfound pain. "No offence," he added, stroking his pained appendages.  _You idiot_.

"None taken," I answered, finishing up the initial stages of treatment. I started cutting up and tying little bandages around his body, carefully trying not to pressure his obviously-sprained leg. I set a bandage against his forehead, just behind his locks, making sure to get to as much bleeding skin as I could to keep him clean. I constantly swept over his body, on the lookout for anything seemingly in need of first aid. I kept this routine for 5 minutes working in silence, somehow ignoring his presence as I sank into my work, until he snapped me out of it.

"Why do you do this health stuff anyway? From what I've heard, you're - like - one of the school's saving graces. Why bother with this nursing extra credit? It's not like you need it." I looked down at his face from where I was standing. "Plus, Hanji manages to keep the nurse's station in pretty good condition without any help. Again! No offence!"

I gulped, trying not to let it spill out that the main reason I do this was that I got some weird sense of achievement from treating patients - notably him. And I also tried to keep the blush that was forming down under wraps. Hearing Jean say stuff like this would just instantly make me flustered, and I could feel my heartbeat pulsating, rooting me in place.

I was just sitting there above him, still, frozen. I couldn't formulate a single reply that was full of a single actual reason. "Well, because of....breaks. Hanji isn't here _all_ the time. And also, well...you know..." I stalled, trying to buy time for an excuse. Everything was coming out jumbled, and I could feel my tongue twisting in my mouth. "It's good...practice. I...guess."

 _What._ Practice for what? Treating the guy I've been crushing on for the better part of the entirety of high school? Why am I such an idiot. Save it Marco. _Save the situation..._

"Oh! You planning on going to med school or something?"

_Well that works. Thank you Jean._

"Yeah! Well, actually...no. Not maybe. I don't know," I rambled, gazing at the wall in front of me and resuming my bandaging even quicker than before, avoiding the awkwardness that was probably all in my head. Why do I make everything into such a big deal? Still, I just kept looking away and ignoring his face.

"Well," he began chuckling. "I don't know how much practice you're getting. I'm practically your only customer."

"Hey, we get alot of people in here for a lot of different cases. And just appreciate that it's free, jock-boy," I retorted, setting down the roll of bandage after making sure he was set before grabbing the final touch - Biofreeze. I pressed the plastic tube until a good amount of the green gel spilled out onto my palm. I started rubbing it on his perfectly toned waist, torso and legs, trying to get to as much tensed skin as possible, trying to make sure he wouldn't end up a contorted mess by the next day.

"Mmmm- Nhhhh."

What. No. Oh no. Please don't start moaning. It's bad enough I'm practically giving you a fucking _massage_ , now you're gonna start _moaning_?! God damnit Kirschtein - I'm trying to be professiona-

"That feels really nice, Bodt," he choked out suddenly, his voice hitting a whole new level of deep and sultry.

That's it. Forget it. All this was worth it. Just hearing him say that made this all okay. I kind of just sat there, taking his compliment way too seriously, feeling all too proud of myself, and my apparently 'really nice' nursing skills. And I'd take 'really nice' from Jean any day of the week.

"You okay there?"

I looked up immediately. Jean threw me a sideways glance from where he was lying down, and it only took me a full minute to realise that my hands stopped moving. I was practically laying over Jean Kirschtein with a dumbstruck look and a handful of sticky gel.

"Yes! Yes! Excellent!" I shot up, non-too-subtly making my way towards the sink and washing my hands - and face - with cold water. I could've sworn I had heard him smirk.

"Well if I'm too distracting for you, maybe I'll get into fights and shit less often."

Are you fucking kidding me, Kirschtein. Stop playing with me. Or...wait a minute. Was he just okay with me being all flustered over him? Or was he being just extra witty today? Reading him so hard. Snap out of it.  _Pull an Elsa, Marco. _Don't think anything of it._ Conceal, don't feel. _I made my way back to him.

"Hilarious. Now, get your ass home to bed - if you add more pressure to your body you'll likely fuck up your shit beyond your usual standard."

"Okay...okay" he replied, gingerly pulling his jersey over his bare chest and making his way off the hospital bed.

"Need me to call someone for you?" I just had to offer, didn't I.

From his pocket he took out and jingled his keys. "Nope, I got a ride. Thanks though!" He shot me a big grin. My god his face was just the embodiment of perfection.  _Hey hey, tone it down Marco, don't creep him out._

I shot him a half-assed grin back that would probably freak out anyone. "Its nothing," I simply said, trying to appear nonchalant. Judging from his humoured face, I think he saw right through me. I just turned around to put my stuff away, avoiding eye contact.

"Riiight..." He let out, dragging the 'i' sound for a bit too long. As I heard him limp out - me simultaneously trying to get over the scene that just took place - he piped in again. "How come you don't come to any of the games?" I turned around in surprise, surprised at his question. "You're a student, it should be part of your moral code to support your school team. Plus you take care of me like every time I get my shit beat up - I think you coming to actually see it happen is only fair." 

As if I'd let him know that the reason I don't come is because I can't keep myself still watching him tackle like 5 other guys at once. Hearing about it is distracting enough, thank you very much.

"Ah well...you know. Sports aren't...really my thing." I saw his face turn sour, and I quickly sidetracked him before he could give me some spiel on the 'importance of an interest in athletics.' I've had that speech given to me before and I'm not hearing it again. "All I'm saying is, its just not my cup of tea. And I say this with no offence to Coach Erwin, Sina Highschool, or you," I let out. He looked completely neutral, until I saw that grin on his face again.

"Naahhh, I call bullshit. There's another reason." His grin spread further and further, while he stood slanted on the nurse's station doorway.

Before I could panic and let my emotional 14-year-old schoolgirl out, I made my way towards him. "Well there isn't one, so if there isn't anything else you need..." I beckoned past him.

He laughed loudly, his arms high in surrender. "Okay, okay, I didn't mean to push you. I still think you should come to a match though. I promise you it's not as dull as it looks. The crowd, the stands, the energy..." I sighed in exasperation, trying to avoid the discussion. "OK, how about thist: If you come, I'll knock off the shit with Eren."

He was probably bluffing -actually I'm pretty sure he was  _definitely_ bluffing - but a chance came up to stop those pointless fights; and I took it.

"Fine, fine! I'll go," I gave up. Jean looked happy though. I loved his smile.

"Awesome. I'll text you the team's schedule." He stood upright, hands on his side, waiting by the door for something. I just stood there, still. "Ummm..." he dragged on.

I slapped myself on the head. Oh _my god. Take_ _the hint, dumbass_

"Oh right! Sorry!" I started frantically walking in place, half trying to stand still, half trying to not knock over the entire nurse's desk. Where the hell were those sticky notes?! I would've probably started sweating if he didn't save me. Again.

"You know you can just say it to me. I may get my head bashed in every single practice, but I promise you my brain actually functions fine."

"Ha haaa! Right!" I probably laughed too much, which made giving him my number before the awkwardness came back all the more important.

He jiggled his phone back and forth. "Thanks! Talk to you soon!" He flashed me yet  _another_ grin and walked out, leaving me there in the nurse's station, not before doing a little wave from behind the door, which I'm sure he would've known I would've found hilarious. I heard him limp yet again through the hallways, and once I made sure I heard the school's door close shut behind him, I sprang out of my little swivel chair and high- fived the air.

 

Fuck yeah. I just got Jean's number. Well...more like he  _probably_ got mine down and he'll  _probably_ text me. But eh screw it - progress is progress. I packed up the station before Nurse Hanji came in and started questioning me. I swear that woman is more batshit than me when I'm around Jean. And that's a hell of an accomplishment on her behalf. 


	2. Chapter 2

_"Think you can score me some painkillers?"_

_"I'm the nurse's aid you moron, not a drug dealer."_

_"Come oonnnnn whats the difference. All Im asking for is a little fix me up - im still hurting"_

_"Suck it up."_

_"youre no fun. and dont gell snippy on me, nurse-boy"_

_"Funny. And just cause of your attitude, next time you come crawling back from some kick to the nuts by Eren I won't be there to help you."_  
  
I sent that one with an extra smug attitude.

" _omg no plz dont leave me with hanji. last time i went there after an accident during a game she told my mum i had like a million different kinds of bone fractures, and it was nothing but a sprain. the womans fuckin insane"_

_"She's not THAT bad. Just a little...extreme."_

_"she made my mum cry"_

I couldn't help but laugh.

 _"Send my apologies to Mrs Kirschtein on behalf of the nurse's department."_ I waited for his reply, laying in my bed, phone in hand.

_"She says she appreciates it"_

_"And that we hope she won't sue."_ I waited again.

_"She says she likes the idea, but she won't ;P"_

_"Lmao did you seriously tell her that."_

_"Yeah shes right next to me, were eating dinner. well more like shes eating dinner at the TABLE and im spread all over the couch with my leg up"_

_"does it really hurt that bad?"  
_

_"YES"_

_"I don't get it. You say you're in pain, yet you managed to stand up properly three days ago when you sprained it - AND managed to drive home - all by yourself?"  
_

_"Adrenaline. Determination. Temporary relief from awesome biofreeze gel massage. whatever excuse works best for u"_

_"Riighht. Well you're still not getting extra painkillers."_

_"Damn u and westernised medicine."_

_"Quit your complaining and get some rest."_

_"I will when I finish my omelette"_

_"You're eating an omelette collapsed on a couch at 23:52 at night?"_

_"#thuglife"_

_"Ok well your...odd...dietary choices aside, I gotta go sleep. have fun with your leg <3"_

_"nooooo stayyyyy heelpppppp"_

_"Goodnight Jean :)"_

_"yeah yeah ok. 'night :)"  
_

 

 

It was so nice getting to know him over the past few days. We'd talk like this for hours on end ever since he got my number, and I've been enjoying every minute of it. I didn't want anything to come between us - family, friends, responsibilities. Just me, him and a mobile service. But of course, being a high school student meant some things, no matter how trivial and/or annoying, came first. Most notably - _exams._

With school came exams, and with exams came painstaking revision hours. Literature, IT, Chemistry - all those lessons came flying out with test schedules and revision groups. I, of course, wanted to ask Jean if he wanted help with studying, only to find out that he didn't share some of my elective subjects, forcing me to climb out of my little 'Jean bubble' that I've been living in for the past couple of days. I kind of realised in that moment how secluded I was, and how much I  _WASN'T_  spending time with anyone I used to be spending time with. Which led me to have to actually talk to someone other than him.

I wasn't left with much of a choice other than having to ask Sasha to help me revise. I've known her for years, ever since we were kids, so it was only logical that she be the first person to actually converse with. I managed to catch her before the end of school, and needless to say she was ecstatic to have me back; although, she didn't hesitate at first to playfully beat me for ignoring her and the rest of our friends. After our little reunion, I relayed the events of the past few days to her, and she just kind of took it in. I also asked her for her help revising, which she was thankfully up for. She was also willing to "help me with my studying, among other things." Whatever the hell that meant. A lifetime of friendship and I still haven't even attempted to decipher just how her brain works. Not that I was complaining - she's one of the few decent people in this school and I was grateful for her help.

We made our way up to my room after a day of note-taking and lessons, with her muttering indistinctly on the phone with some guy who I could only assume was Connie, judging from her tone of voice. Meanwhile, she was dragging up a schoolbag that - I was almost sure - was chock-full of a whole bunch of food and only the bare minimum of school necessities. She's always been like this - total food junkie.

"Yes. Yes. Okay fine. See ya!" she rang out, before kicking my door open and laying down her stuff on my floor. "Christ these bags are heavy. Thanks for  _offering_ to _help_ , by the way."

"I warned you that I don't condone my entire fucking pantry to be brought up into my room."

"Sugar helps me study. Live with it." 

I looked at her dumbfounded before sitting down next to her stuff rummaging through her  _'_ _sustainance',_  pulling out wrapper after wrapper after plastic bag after plastic bag. "Oh yeah, sugar. And basically every other conceivable food group," I scoffed loudly.

"Whatever, quit your whining Marco," she let out before jumping on my desk chair and putting her feet up. "So, what are we revising again?"

"Chemical bonding and solubility - do you seriously have no idea why you're even here?!"

She put her feet down before making her way towards her stuff. "Yeah yeah I know, the exam." She took out her textbook and a packet of food and made her way back to my chair, nesting in all her contorted glory. "Oh and a quick head's up - there's another thing I was asked by the others to help you with too."

"I was wondering what you meant when you said 'among other things,' actually. What's up?"

"It's just a mild concern of the gang." 

"I sure as hell hope you're talking about our friends and not some underground thing you're inexplicably involved in." She laughed at that.

"Haha no, no. It's just something that's been on our minds for abit that we felt you - maybe - had to hear."

I was getting kind of worried. "Um...just tell me what's wrong with you or whoever it is so we can get it over with. I do actually intend to start revising for this fucking thing," I let her know, tapping the chemistry book in my hand. I made my way to my bed and hit the pillows with a thud, before lying on my elbow facing her.

"Okay I guess...the best way to put it is...me, Armin, Connie, basically everyone - we're getting kinda concerned," she let out, swiveling around with half a bag of Funyuns in one hand and a Pearson's Chemistry notebook in the other. My face turned curious. _Worried_? Was she being serious? What the hell happened that they needed to be worried over?

I actually chuckled, albeit nervously. "Why the hell should you guys be concerned? If anything, the most concerning thing here is your food diet, Sasha." I flashed her a cheeky grin, before she threw me back a bored face.

"Hilarious. Look. It's not that something necessarily, you know 'bad' happened...it's just how you're dealing with your new found...occupation." She stopped her chair spinning, outstretching her arm. "Funyun?" 

I waved my hand in decline. "Nah I'm good." She shrugged before resuming her spinning. "Okay so..what is this event exactly?"

She appeared deep in thought, pausing her spinning for a while before she turned her head towards me. "Well...you kind of don't talk to nearly anyone anymore after you and that guy exchanged numbers." 

My face fell immediately. They were offended that I started talking to Jean? Where the hell was this coming from?

"That's crazy. Do you not like him or something?"

"No Marco, that's not what this is. It's just that you've kind of - let us go lately."

I was dumbfounded by how seriously everyone took my little recent distraction. "Well it's not like I've gone off the grid! I still talk to you guys."

She scoffed. "Not as much as you used to. You've barely said a word to us in school over the past week-"

"Hey hey! A couple of days at the most!" I interrupted.

"Fine," she sighed, stopping her chair-spinning. "For _t_ _hree days,"_ she gestured with an ironic finger gesture, "you haven't said a word. For God's sake we see you pass the halls everyday bumping into everyone cause you're too busy glaring at your damn phone when you walk, no doubt talking to that guy."

"Ok and so what if I am? There's no rule against it. Jean's nice to me."

"And we're not? You can't just move on to some other person, some other friend, just cause you find him interesting and totally leave us behind. It's just not the same without you hanging out with us, I'm serious. Especially for me - I mean I've known you for so long, it's just too weird without you with us."

"What, so I'm not allowed new friends?"

"Hey I never said that, all I said was you can't just turn us around like a sack of meat just cause there's someone new in your life to talk to. It's kiiiind of a dick move." She resumed her spinning.

"Sasha you're blowing this way out of proportion." I was starting to get a bit irritated, and my voice was starting to show it. "Okay look it's not about tossing people aside, it's just - someone who I've been looking to get to know better for a really long time is  _finally_  talking to me and is _surprisingly_ not a total dick to me. All I'm doing is just talking to him back because, I mean, this is such a rare opportunity for me. Don't I at the very least dese-"

"Wait, wait, wait a minute." she beckoned me to shut up, waving her hands in the air. "What do you mean, 'looking to get to know better for a really long time' and 'rare opportunity'?" She stopped abruptly and was eyeing me up and down, eyebrow raised. I was kind of taken aback, dumbstruck on how silent she was. It wasn't long before I saw her smirk form. 

"Okay, okay, this is _so_  not what it looks like-" I began to protest, hoping she'd believe me. My efforts were of course in vain.

"Uh huh okay!" She started giggling which quickly evolved into an uproar. "Oh wow and I thought you were, like, abandoning us. But no! Marco has a cru-ush!" She said all sing-a-long style.

"Dear god please stop it or I will wring your throat." I probably didn't sound too convincing. This was awful. Whenever Sasha had insight on one of my personal affairs, she always made sure to drag it out as long as possible. 

"Oh god this is adorable. Cute little nurse assistant who has about as much as much sexual experience as a dead bird fell for his patient. Not to mention Mr. Team Captain." My face started heating up hearing her say that, and I couldn't help but smile. I bowed my head and turned away, trying not to let her see me. "You know can I just say something?"

"What?" I snapped back. 

"I always pegged you for the type to go after the jocks."

I choked and fell down hard on my bed, blocking out Sasha's sudden howls of laughter with about a handful of pillows held against my hears. She took out yet another Funyun and pointed it at me. "Ah HA! Evidence."

I turned abruptly and pointed at her. "Don't you point your little corn snacks at me, Sasha." She smiled with her teeth open, shoving the Funyun in her mouth. "And eat like a normal person."

"Okay! Screw everything I just said! Total rewind! Tell me about him!" She practically threw her Chemistry book on the ground in her excitement and filled her now-empty hand with a Pringles can, looking at me expectantly while simultaneously opening the sealed container. "Go on, shoot! Spill all the details." 

I looked away from her, crossing my arms and trying not to get flustered. I threw an occasional glance, and managed to catch shots of her sitting backwards on my chair, eyes totally open and full of excitement, food in hand. And in mouth.

"Okay, okay fine," I relented, sitting up on the bed and crossing my legs. "Alright well...It was just a normal shift at the nurse station, and he had practice or whatever that day and got into another fight with that Eren kid, just like nearly every week. Anyway, some of his teammates brought him to me and I was just...treating him for the millionth time, except this time we actually got to talking beyond the casual small talk."

"Talkedaboutwhat?!" She blurted out.

"Umm...I guess stuff like why I take the nurse shift...or why I don't come to more of his games."

She increased her food consumption rate. "And...and?!" Crumbs fell from her mouth to my floor in a frenzy.

"Holy shit, calm down! That's it! We just talked, he asked for my number-" She made a sudden inhumane sound, before bouncing up and down the chair. "I...um...gave it to him, and we just hit it off from there." She suddenly paused, eyes open and swallowed loudly.

"Ok wait a minute. So, that was the day you met. What else? What have you guys been talking about all these days?"

"I don't know, not much. Just the normal stuff. Hellos, how'veyoubeens, whatsups. The casual." She narrowed her eyes in thought, contemplating something that I assumed was way past the situation. "Umm...hello? Sasha? Something on your mind?" I waved in front of her face, which did little to break her concentration.

"No I'm just trying to put the puzzle together here."

"Puzzle? What puzzle?"

"Oh don't be an idiot, Marco. No-one just 'asks' you to come to his games and 'asks' you for your number and talks to you for the better part of three full days, unless they... _want_...something." She winked at me and pulled a face.

"Oh god you don't actually assume he-"

"He digs you! Yes! Case solved." She resumed her spinning, arms stretched out in victory over her success.

 _Could she be right? Does he reciprocate? But he's...he's Jean. I would've never expected him to like me back._  

"OK SO WHAT'S THE PLAN," she screamed out, all hot and heavy. I just looked at her questioningly. She was pushing her hands onto my legs, shaking them. "With Jeeaannnn, what're you gonna do?"

"Nothing, obviously!" I called out, trying to escape her grip. The whole glee in her face dropped immediately.

"Wait, what? But...but you-," she pleaded.

"No! No Way! I can't just ask him out! I don't even know if he's gay, leaving aside the question if he actually likes me back. It's too risky and I'm not jeopardising what I already have with him."

I always had this thought in the back of my mind, but I never realised how much it hurt to actually admit it.

"You can't just give up on this!"

"What's to give up on? Sasha - we established an actual connection three  _days_  ago. Even in the best situation he probably only sees me as a friend."

"I know but-"

"Let it go, Sasha. I mean it." My face was downtrodden as I picked up the chemistry book off the pillows and laid back down again on the bed. "Look forget I even told you and let's - let's just go back to studying." She looked beaten, but she yielded and picked up her thrown chemistry book copy and sat cross legged on my desk chair again - without parting with the Pringles can, of course. I could see her read it for a few moments in silence, before she spoke up. 

"Are you gonna tell the group?"

I sighed deeply, still looking down at my book. "I guess. Hey look...I'm sorry I shut you guys out, it's just; I don't know I guess I got kind of caught up with him. God knows it's not the first time this happened. Plus I know that if I don't tell the group I like Jean, you probably will." I looked up from ionic compound equations and looked up at her, sending her a little grin. She saw me and flashed me a big one right back, bending and stretching her eyebrows in the process.

"You bet your ass I will," she smirked behind a supposed-to-be evil grin, which quickly subsided to a gentle little smile. We looked at each other before smirking and returning to our work. "Ok so, Marco, what pages are in the exam?"

"The one you're on now, plus the next, ummmm-" I flipped through my own copy, counting inwardly, "-36 pages."

She sighed in desperation. "Fuck this school."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the lovely comments and stuff! It's heartwarming, really <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey look an update

I could make out distinct calls from a dreamy haze before a blasted ringing knocked me out of sleep dreamland and right back into my bedroom. By then I realised that the calls belonged to my mother, and believe me when I say that her voice sounds very different in reality than in my head. To add insult to injury, I could hear her knocking roughly on my door and repeatedly imploring me to - and I quote here- "get the hell out of bed." Admittedly, this time I stayed put in my bed quite a bit past my usual 'time of ascension,' and just maybe me staying up all night stressing over today had some part to play in that. Sasha and I (shamefully) never actually got to finish our revision session yesterday, in favour of screwing around procrastinating in my room after mutual exchanges of "we got this," which I now realise - laying face down and already exhausted on my mattress - was an incredibly stupid decision. So now, on top of having to take that damn test for which I spent all my past-midnight, semi-productive hours 'revising' for, I ALSO had to deal with the ordeal of rekindling my connection with the group through a full blown teenage crush confession over some guy I just met a week ago. Coincidentally, Sasha had a part to play in both of those.

I think I wasn't in the wrong for not "being in the mood" to go to school today.

Because I refused to acknowledge the morning's existence and leave the air-conditioned, pillow covered haven that was my bed, it wasn't long before the knocking grew rough and the threats started to kick in - which were threats I wasn't anywhere near ready to face at that time of day. I responded with some weak confirmation that I was in fact breathing, slammed the alarm shut and sat up on my bed, sheets suspended all over me. Aside from the painful noise pollution that was a combination of 'motherly morning love,' exhaustion, and a ridiculously loud clockwork contraption, I had to face the reality of having to get all the stuff that's been on my chest out to the people I've been avoiding lately. I could picture it now - me staring awkwardly at my friends' faces, trying to think of words to string together to excuse my "negligence" over the past week. Armin's questions, Sasha's smugness over being the one to get it out of me. Not to mention the possibility of someone eavesdropping in, which in turn opened up a whole new can of worms. I realised I was overthinking things again, and that I was doing more harm than good by obsessing.

Still, it didn't hurt to have a plan for what to say, and so I started multitasking; mundane morning prep for school on the one hand, social hypotheticals on the other. And it wasn't even 08:00 yet. New personal best.

I bent over on the bathroom sink, my feet grazed by my pajama pants and pressing on the cold bathroom tiles. I looked at my face in the mirror, still sleep-ridden and weary. My eyes decided to follow suit, as I saw them looking back at me. all red-splotched and covered by droopy eyelids. Needless to say - I looked like hell. I groggily picked up whatever toothpaste was nearest to me, emptied it out on my toothbrush, and I began to think up sassy one liners in order to make myself sound like an actual human being when I end up having to actually talk to my friends. 

_'This is still pretty new to me. Crushes and all that stuff. I hope you can understand.'_

I shook my head, discarding the idea of sounding like some 30-odd bloke with social issues. Despite the fact that my past experiences point to me actually becoming just that, my future social aptitude was trivial at the moment.

I spat out my toothpaste and replaced it with water, gurgling it in my throat while I thought of other approaches. I couldn't go play the victim, as they didn't even know Jeanpersonally and yet they somehow managed to 'lose' me to him. The more I thought about it, the more I began to realise just how much Sasha was right; I really did leave them high and dry while I was off chasing tail. Or however that translates into my situation. I'm not even sure awkwardly texting some guy for about a week even qualifies as 'chasing tail,' and it surely wasn't a reason to just shut off completely. 

 _Damn Sasha...when the hell did she get so perceptive?_  Okay, she was always smart and all, but I seriously underestimated her abilities to read me better than I do myself. It was slightly irritating.

I finished the morning ritual, with a few comb swipes and dressing in my usual jean-shirt-jacket combination before pacing downstairs to get to breakfast.

As I made my way down the steps and ran my hand down the wooden banister (trying not to trip and kill myself), I tried to think of some more ideas on how to get the ball rolling with them. I pondered on whether I should take the apologetic route and just pity my way out of the whole thing. Or maybe humour my way through; just lighten the air and just kind of  _ease_ my way out of their worries and back in their good graces. I didn't have alot of time to think over it, as the second my sneakers finally hit the last step and then the marble floor, the same voice rang out again, only this time less forceful than before.

"Late night?" 

I peered into the kitchen to find my mum eyeing me smugly, single eyebrow raised in my direction while she worked on breakfast without even looking at it. It was quite surprising to see how well she could pull of the whole 'you did something stupid' expression thing off flawlessly every single time. That sly, mocking face she retains while being able to do literally anything else. Case in point: looking down at you while she blindly goes all Gordon Ramsay on a pile of food. I lack her talent. I can go full on Zen mode and still manage to burn bacon on a grill.

I rubbed my eyes before walking into the kitchen. "You can call it that," I said, pulling the wooden chair backwards as I sat down on it and rested my head on my arms, which were in turn sprawled out all over the frilly tablecloth. The ungodly bright white ceramic/crème counter-top combination made my eyes hurt, and so I tried to pass out on my breakfast plate. It wasn't long before I heard that subtle click of stiletto make its way towards me.

"I've told you a million times to try sleeping earlier," she asserted, smacking the back of my head with her hand, which I admit  _did_ wake me up. I winced in pain and shot up, caressing the spot where her hand met my scalp. "Going to bed like an actual human being isn't a sign of weakness you know. And elbows off the table!" Not wanting to piss her off when I was in such a taxing mood anyway, I just did as I was told. I raised my arms and put them to my side, and looked away annoyed, trying to avoid another example of her teaching me morning etiquette.

"Good boy," she let out, throwing me a smile and making her way back to the oven. I looked up after a bit and saw her working her magic, throwing Exotic Herb #1 along with Exotic Herb #2 into the mix, while flipping the contents fast and precisely. Despite how vexed I felt that morning, not to mention irritated by the painful backhand of my mother, I couldn't help but admire how focused she looked when she cooked. She never did anything that wasn't 100%; with her, it was always 'do it right or don't do it.'  It's one of those pick-me-ups that I feel already exists on a motivational poster somewhere. Nevertheless, watching her work like that, all focused - I like to think that I inherited her hands. Although mine are admittedly used for another purpose - refer to the bacon statement above if you need a reminder. Syringes are my thing. Overcooked meat isn't.

"Noooow," she dragged on cheerily, slamming the spatula on the pan and tossing it into the sink, "You can eat your eggs." She brought the pan to where I was sitting and slid it all onto my plate, as sunny-side ups, fried bread drizzled with olive oil and sausages all fell and arranged themselves on my plate. She looked at it proudly before planting a kiss on my head, making her way to the sink to toss the pan in it and sitting down next to me, watching me eat.

It was just simple silence for a while, as I let my head take a break from all the worries I was filling it with and just enjoying the presence of my mother and her constantly amazing food. I fully planned on keeping it that way for the rest of the morning, but of course all good things must come to an end.

"So what was it this time?" I looked up at her, and saw her downing a coffee mug, her questioning eyes observing mine.

"Meaning?" I managed to blurt out after a sudden swallow of food.

While still holding her mug, she took her index finger and wagged it in a loop in front of me. "Your little nocturnal escapades don't go unnoticed. Not the first time this happened. What were you doing up so late?"

I went back to cutting my food. "I just went to bed later than usual, mum." I tried to keep it as vague as possible, hiding behind my utensils. "Not the worst thing I could've done," I chimed in, downing some water to get rid of the dry sensation in my throat.

"Does 'later than usual' always qualify as sporadic pubescent groaning in the night along with only 2 hours of sleep ?" I choked ever so slightly, shutting my eyes because of the clench in my throat and coughing to get rid of it. From what few glances I could catch, I could see her getting that smug face again. It was increasingly irritating. "Something you want to talk about?"

As the burning feeling in my throat subsided, I felt my ears go hot instead. "Just some moonlight revision. Nothing special."

"Uh huh, I'll take your word for it." The ironic tone wasn't subtle at all, but I didn't want to drag her into my mess, so I just let her comment slide into silence. I finished my breakfast quickly before she'd get another chance to spring something up, stood and cleaned up, and did my best to appear busy. After sorting out the mess, I picked up my school bag and the car keys off the kitchen counter and started to make my way towards the car.

"Someone's in a rush to leave, aren't they?" I heard, along with the familiar sound of her heels clicking on the floor and the clang of the mug being placed in the sink, along with the plate and the pan.

"You're the one who banged on my door all morning and basically threatened me to get my ass off the bed. I'm just being subservient," I called out in her general direction.

She appeared in the hall, making her way towards me. "Look at you, using the big words." She pinched my cheek hard and picked up the keys from my hand. "My 17 year old thinks he's growing up."

"What's with the sentimentality?" I asked, soothing my cheek with my fingers. "And the attitude," I added scornfully.

"You think you're able to get stuff past me," she said, guiding me out the door and shutting it behind her. She started walking down the porch and onto the street. "Deny it as long as you want, you've been acting abit off lately, and you're not spilling." She gave me a direct look and a smile before making her way into the car.

When did everyone around me start analysing my every move. It felt suffocating. I raised my hands in surrender, walking towards the car as well. "Can we just drive. Like...now. Please." I was begging her at this point. "Its's really nothing you want to get involved in, and I don't feel like 'spilling' either."

"Fine, fine.." she gave up, adjusting in her seat, while I stepped in the adjacent side, dropping my school stuff down to my legs and letting my head hit the car seat. "If you want to tell me though, don't just sit around moping until sunrise. I can't stand the noise, and you're really annoying when you're tired."

I stared at her in disbelief over the fact that _she_ considered _herself_ a victim of annoyance after recalling my morning's wake up process, but I didn't have the energy. Instead, I just resumed my position on the car seat, closing my eyes and simply whispering out a faint:  "Mom?"

"Mhmm?" She inquired, starting the engine and starting to move, her eyes on the road.

"Just drive."

 

* * *

 

I felt the then-moving air around me wither to a halt, as the faint radio sounds that filled the blackness were replaced by indistinct chatter, and the occasional laugh or scream. I opened my eyes tiredly, and sighed before unbuckling my seat belt and heaving myself out of the car. The wind was especially rough today, so I tightened my jacket around my body and slung my school bag over my shoulders. I turned around to face her and see her off.

"I'm going home around three. Got another shift at Hanji's."

"Want me to come pick you up?" She offered.

I thought about my options, but I didn't want to bother her with driving all the way back from work just to take me home. Plus there was the issue of not wanting to revisit he previous topic. I just shook my head, declining her offer before letting her know that I'd find a way home that was more convenient. We exchanged customary 'I love yous' before she drove off, and I was left in the front of the school about to make my way in. I made my way through the office, waving to the receptionists and a few teachers that happened to be there before entering the main body of the school.

Packed would be the most appropriate word used to describe the situation. The school itself is built in a way that indirectly leads to a ton of high schoolers to cluster together in little hoards in the central quad, while the classes themselves take place in the two-story perimeter building that encompasses the quad. It's quite a naked feeling, standing at the entrance and looking at all of the people, all the faces you pass by, latching on to your subconscious. Then there's the green railings arranged on the stone stairs and the class balconies, along with Sina's flag - interlocked white wings on a thick green backdrop - draping down the flagpole nestled at the top of the main building, flowing in the wind. 

I got kind of lost in the view and feel of it all before a quick intercom announcement snapped me out of my daydreaming, and I made my way to the nurses station, found in the basement floors, which in turn was built adjacent to the sports pitches. I passed by more students before unlocking the door and opening the lights, which brought the room and all of its disinfected glory to light. I started heading towards my locker, and carried out a quick check-through of what was inside, making sure everything was present and where it should be, before making my way to Hanji's desk, desperately trying to rearrange the mess Hanji always left when it came to her paperwork. The woman was committed to her work, I'll give her that, but her attention to order was sub-par to say the least. 

I kept myself busy trying to make sense of the mountain of crap on Hanjis desk, before I heard someone walk in.

"What is it with you and OCD-ing all over the office?" I caught the familiar tone, and I looked up to find her wearing that cocky expression she usually had around her station, which was pretty much always. She fixated her glass in her hair, before walking inside and adjusting the thermostat to warm up the room from the morning chill.

"You should really differentiate between OCD and working in a pig sty, Ms Hanji." I picked up another batch of random papers and gestured at them.

"And you," she began, grabbing the sheets from my hand sharply, "should differentiate between helping me and annoying me, because you kind of lean on one side of those when you try and get me to do this kinda stuff." 

I couldn't help but laugh. I loved Hanji. She was hands down the most easygoing teacher in the whole school, with that vibrancy you rarely see these days. Not to mention her skills in here are badass - handling blood donations, sport team injuries, checking practically the entire student body for proper immunizations and vaccinations. She considers this place her second home, and she definitely walks the walk. Although sometimes her instincts _do_ sometimes run wild which can make her appear...rash. Despite that, and a few minor complaints from frightened parents, Hanji Zoe was and still is the highlight of the school for me.

She took a chair out and reclined in it, her boots hitting the desk hard. "So," she began, swerving in place on her seat. "What's the plan for today?"

"Well," I began, taking off my jacket. "I've got a Chemistry exam I need to take care of today, plus some personal endeavours, aaandd..." I packed my jacket into a small bundle and slid it into my locker. "...come back here after school finishes to hold the fort for about an hour." I threw a small smile at Hanji, and she threw me a smirk back.

"You're lucky - today's practice day for the teams. We might get your hands on another casualty. Like that kid who comes in here all the time." She got up and made her way towards the other side of the room, winking at me once on the way. The hell was that about?

"You mean Jean?" I asked, although I felt I was right.

"Plays everyday like it's his last chance each time. Has no consideration for personal well-being. Comes here so often we ought to start printing gift cards just for him."

"Sounds like Jean to me," I responded. "Although I'm more concerned over how he keeps managing to come back so often." We shared a quick moment of laughter, before she turned and began to make her way towards some file compartments. 

"Well I'd love to stay and help you do," I looked up and then down at her, trying to make out what she was doing. "...Whatever it is you're doing, but I've got an education to get to so I'll just...take my leave." She was knee deep in front of a ton of files, but she quickly looked up at me.

"By the way, If you want you can close up earlier. I have to be back here by the end of school abit earlier today and I have to take care of some stuff past normal my normal work hours anyway, so you can just head home earlier." She looked down at the compartments full of paperwork, scanning and fiddling around with files.

"Oh! Well, in that case, thank you Hanji." She stretched her arm up and just gave me a weak little hand wave, before bringing it down to work with it again. I grabbed my bag again and exited the nurse station, carefully avoiding people on my way to my morning class. 

 

* * *

  

After the usual slow pace of the first period lessons, which in my case were full of super quick note-glancing revision, I made my way out of the classroom and into the quickly filling-up hallway of the school. Given that it was breaktime, and everyone was free to go nuts for the better part of twenty minutes, I made my way through the masses and towards the monkey bars at the edge of our school, which is where my friends and I usually met up. I led myself through the stories and levels of the main building before going all the way back down to the basement area and towards the pitches, which were coincidentally right next to the monkey bars.

I trekked my way down the vast, green, patterned pitch towards steel linear constructions and familiar faces. I was actually physically nervous, as I realised then that I hadn't come up with an idea on how to break the ice. I would've just acted normal, but Sasha  _had_ to let me know they were 'worried about me.' I found it funny that I was frustrated over the fact that I had caring friends.

I could see the blondes, Christa and Armin, notice me from afar, but it wasn't until Sasha looked up from a conversation with Connie that there was any reaction from them whatsoever. She immediately lit up, _yet again_  tossing her chemistry book on the floor and brushing the dust off her pants before getting up and briskly walking towards me.

"So you  _finally_ showed up, eh?" she smirked, grinning with her teeth exposed while she hooked her arm around my neck. "Back from the land of the dead?" she asked, looking at me, and then the group.

It was rather uncomfortable, as I was noticeably taller than her and so her grip on me was kind of loopy. I took the first chance I could to escape and sit on the ground in a way that didn't make me want to strain myself. While I settled my school bag and my position, I looked up at the others. Armin and Christa continued to look at me and they shared that sympathetic look on their faces. Berthold was sprawled all over the monkey bars themselves, covering their entire span with his immense height. Connie was just sitting cross legged, his arms supporting him from behind while he seemed to recline in the air itself, with Sasha crouching down next to him.

"Yeah, I guess I did sort of...go AWOL for a while," I meekly replied, addressing Sashas comment and laughing abit to myself, all the while trying to avoid direct eye contact with anyone.

"Something wrong?" piped in Christa, empathy plastered on her face. She always seemed to want to just radiate support and generosity for everybody around her. She was like a teenage Amelie, albeit less French and alot more blonde.

"Nothing you need to worry about, guys," I ensured, trying to keep the mellow atmosphere intact. 

"Well," began Connie out of nowhere. "We're more...curious than worried." A few nods from around.

"Plus," Berthold called from above, "I mean...you're not stupid enough to get into any real trouble. So yeah. Curiousity is a more...appropriate term." He turned to face us. He seriously looked colossal, his form at that elevation managing to eclipse us. "And just...you were never the wild type, so I think you can understand our, quote-unquote, 'shock' over your disappearance...if you can even call it that."

I was surprised at how chill everyone was acting. From what Sasha told me, I was expecting alot more...unrest and awkwardness. I mean, she threw words like 'sacks of meat' and 'dick move,' so this was not what I was expecting.

"Yeah yeah, proper terminology and talking about what a delicate little flower Marco is are irrelevant," snapped Sasha, silencing all of us. "What matters is the  _why._ Go on - tell them!" 

She was grinning way too madly; even Connie picked up on it. His 'are-you-okays' towards were Sasha were met with violent shush-es and a tense air of anticipation. She was clutching her legs, her face hiding behind her knees, but her emotions of glee not at all hidden.

Realising that the best way to admit it was to just tackle the issue straight on, I started to talk. "Okay the reason I kind of disappeared lately was...How do I put this, because, I kind of, have been-"

"HE'S FOUND A GUY," blurted out Sasha, grinning widely at her announcement. Ironically, I was the most shocked out of the group. Everyone was wearing little smiles, and I was just sitting there dumbfounded as if my foot had been bitten off

"Woooow," I dragged on. "Thanks for making it _'my decision'_ Sasha," I pointed out, before turning away from her and addressing the little 'woo-hoos' and the congratulatory pats-on-the-back by the group. I chuckled for abit, as her sense of achievement was just too priceless to not respond to. 

"Oh please, as if you were gonna let it out! You stuttered more than when you actually talk about your feelings for him." 

"And stop trying to make it seem like we're dating! This is totally one-sided thing with him at the moment."

"Well...who is  _him_  referring to anyway? Someone we know?" asked Armin, his head bent in curiousity. The rest of them copied his expression. I guess there was no chance of holding it back, seeing as Sasha would just blurt it out anyway.

"It's...Jean." I caught a few eye-openers, and the subtlest of a hint of a gasp from Christa. Sasha was just sitting there nodding her head repeatedly at the situation. "Before you guys say anything, I wanna clarify that I fully understand nothing's gonna come out of this; it's a high school crush, an infatuation, yadda yadda; it's just that  _that_ one over there -" I pointed in the general direction of Sasha, who feigned offence and dramatically pointed to herself awestruck, "- made me come clean. Not that I don't value you guys or anything, it's just that I  don't expect a nything to come from all this with Jean, so I just...kept it under wraps for obvious reasons. Soooo yeah...um...sorry."

I looked at everyone around me, grateful at their acceptance and their warm faces, save for one - Berthold. Maybe it was just his full-body shadow smearing it, but his face was just frowned in thought. I couldn't help but indulge. "Something wrong Berthold? You okay with what you just heard?"

He shifted quickly and looked directly at us this time, his face relaxing into a smile. "Oh yeah! No it's okay, it's just that there's this...one thing you said that just made me curious is all."

I was relieved at our mutual misunderstanding, but at the same time intrigued over his curiousity. "What do you mean? What did I say?"

"Well;" he paused to sat cross legged on top of the monkey bars. his arms bent as he just held his knees. "I'm just wondering why you never expect to get anything out of this _thing_ \- whatever it is - you have with Jean?"

I was genuinely confused. "Isn't it obvious?" I replied. "I'm...I'm just me. And he's...him." I beckoned back and forth with hand gestures trying to get my point across, on which Berthold didn't pick up on.

"And?" he continued. "The problem is?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. There couldn't be a more obvious issue with this whole thing, even if it was staring Berthold in the face. "Bert, he's a  _guy_. And so am I. Do you see the problem?" I returned to the hand gestures, which I could swear Sasha found funny, as she was laughing at my still body with it's moving hands and my widened, outstretched expression. Bert opened his mouth about to say something, but the school bell rang hard and signaled the end of our round-table discussion and the beginning of mine and Sasha's next hour and a half of hell.

Sasha looked down from Berhthold's direction and nodded at me in understanding before unlatching herself from Connie and hastily standing straight up. Not wanting to be late, she picked up her stuff and waved Connie goodbye before beckoning me to follow her into the school building to get to the laboratories. I told her to go ahead, motioning to her that I'd be right there, but I wanted to straighten things out with Bertl first.

I didn't get much of a chance though, as he climbed down the bars in a rush as he had to get going. He promised we'd finish talking later, and so I just told him what time to find me, thanked Armin and Christa for their support and waved goodbye to all of them, rushing to catch up with Sasha. 

I finally caught up to her, a bit breathless from the run. 

"What....do....you think.....Bert wanted to...phew!...tell me?" I asked her, half trying to keep up, half trying to pace myself.

"Other than the fact that you need to get in shape," (she chuckled at this), "I have no idea. Couldn't understand him though. I think you were pretty clear, especially with those hand gestures." She started thrashing wildly in the air around her in a poor attempt to mimic me.

"Hilarious," I responded. "Now focus, we've got to ace this thing."

"Stop stressing so much and you will," she countered, right before we found ourselves in front of the laboratories. She rolled her hand forwards and backwards reaching her stomach, bent forward, and opened the door for me, beckoning me to enter. 

"It's gays first now?"

"Its called courtesy. Or it's just me not wanting to be the teacher's first target on the 'why aren't you on time' witch hunt. Whatever floats your boat." She opened one eye to look at me, and she was suppressing a smile.

"Such a good friend," I told her mockingly, before playfully shoving her and grabbing her by the arm, dragging her with me into the class.

 

* * *

 

 We just kind of stared at the air around us, trying to make sense of what our brains experienced.

"What the hell was that?" I asked out in the open, mentally pained from my recent experience.  

Both of us just sat on both sides of the laboratory's entrance, sitting flat on the floor.

"Wow. We should've really screwed around less yesterday, huh?" Sasha laughed at her comment, and I was just throwing her dirty looks.

"At least one of us _tried_ to get the other to work," I protested. "How do you always end up making me just dick around for hours on end?"

"Yeah I don't know why we even thought of revising together. Our... _chemistry..._ isn't that great."

I don't know if it was just the emotionally traumatic experience of taking that damn exam, but I could see her face start to contort in suppressed laughter. "Really? That's the best you could come up with? You could've said LITERALLY anything else to lighten the mood, and you went with that."

By this point she was hiding her legs between her upright legs, silently laughing harder and harder. It was admittedly contagious, as I started chuckling to myself as well. Eventually we stopped, and just stood there amidst the students trying to get to their respective destinations. We rested our heads on the wall and just watched their numbers dwindle until it was just me and Sasha left there to sit on the floor. It was oddly calming to enjoy the cold, dirt covered marble we were sitting on. Or it was the silence. Either way: peaceful.

Shortly after though, we heard footsteps approach from further down the hallway. We couldn't make out who it was, but eventually the calls for 'Marco' and 'Sasha' proved the figure to be Berthold. I got up from my position, before heading towards Sasha and pulling her up in order to greet him.

"How was your exam?" he inquired pleasantly, obviously unaware of the torture we had to go through.

"We will not speak of _that_ ever again." Sasha stated, pointing a finger towards the lab. I laughed at her serious demeanour, before facing him.

 

"I'm sorry to hear that," he responded, genuinely apologetic. 

"So. Um - we got cut off last time. What was it that you were about to say?"

"Hmm...well..." He seemed to be deep in thought, trying to think of the right words and phrases to convey what was on his mind. Reminded me of myself, actually. "I guess the ' _best'_ way to put it is this. Okay. Well, I trust you know Reiner is one of my best friends, right?"

Odd topic for the conversation to begin on, but we went with it.

"Sure," replied Sasha, nodding.

"And that he's on the football team with Jean?" continued Berthold.

"With the size of the guy, I can't say I'm shocked," replied Sasha yet again, letting out a little laugh.

"Yeah, he is pretty huge, I guess..." chimed in Berthold, before snapping back to reality. "Anyway we're getting off topic! My point is...he and Jean are pretty close. And with them being on the same team leads to quite a bit of...locker room conversation."

"Oh God, do I even wanna know?" asked Sasha. grimacing at her idea of male verbal interaction.

Berthold giggled. "It's alot more gossipy than you think. And from what Reiner's relayed on to me...I think you definitely do wanna know."

Both of our interests peaked. Me and Sasha looked at each other in mutual confusion before facing Berthold again. Judging from his reaction in our last conversation, and hints like Bert's positivity over the whole thing and 'locker room conversations' - I had to ask him to tell me more.

"Just a disclaimer: I don't know the  _full_ details, but from what I've been told...Marco." He faced me dead-on. "I'm almost certain that Jean bats for your team." He finished talking and just stood there, anticipating a reaction from me.

Instead I froze. I just stood there still, dumbfounded, feeling my heart palpitate. Sasha was the complete opposite, smiling wildly and shaking my frozen body, trying to get me riled up. I couldn't though - it was just such an unfamiliar feeling, that feeling of finally being able to get a chance to go for the thing you want. I looked up and down at both of them, lost in my head, before Sasha calmed down and Berthold's expression neutralised.

"Aren't you happy?" asked Sasha, her face a mix of pouting and disbelief. "What I've been telling you is true! You can go get him now."

I started talking, albeit weakly. "I know but...it just seems so...unreal." 

She sighed deeply and made me face her. "Welcome to life," she simply said. "Where everything is just a spontaneous and emotional series of coincidences just waiting for you to grab them. I've told you a million times." She paused and made sure I was listening to her. "Stop over-thinking and just do it."

I just stared at her, at a loss for words, unsure of what to say back to her. She was right though - I do often tend to overthink too much. I just let my thoughts overrun of my actions, rarely taking a chance.

"OK, but like, now what? Do I just go find him and just...just what do I do?"

'Maybe you don't even need to  _do_ anything," proposed Berthold. I looked at him inquisitively, asking him what he meant. "Just cause there's a chance, doesn't mean you rush it. I'm not saying...you know...'don't take action;' I just think you should work on it piece by piece. You don't wanna bite off more than you can chew. Take it slow."

Sasha seemed to agree, and bobbed her head in agreement. I decided to take their advice, considering that in such delicate matters my instincts might not be the best source of guidance. After looking at the clock, I realised I had to get to my nurse shift soon, which meant I had to leave Sasha and Berthold behind. I gave them both gratified hugs of thank you's before crossing the school to get to the nurse station. 

The jittery component of the whole situation, although late, hit me on the way to my destination. The idea that I even had a shot with Jean now was still trying to sink in, and it was growing increasingly hard to stay collected over the whole situation. I could feel the joy inside of me seep out, as I gave out little signs of a smile or sped up my pace ever so slightly in the most random moments, when I stopped paying attention to what my body was doing. It was strange; to be at the mercy of your emotions, so much so that you can't even function and carry out orders to your muscles correctly anymore. It was equal parts tantalizing and intoxicating. I kept this up, reveling at the hands of my emotions until I reached the yet again dark-filled nurse station, which needed me to open it up, giving me a reason to shut my brain up and think about something else for a fraction of a second.

I followed the same routine; making my way through the room, turning on the light bulbs and the heater, filling the room with soothing warmth and light. I went sat down in Hanji's desk, relaxed and reclined in it, swinging around ever so slightly while I gazed through the shutters covering the window. I could make out distinct features. Far-away buildings, the back entrance to the school, the football team spread out all over the field and in training formations. It was rather calming to take all this in, and I just sat there viewing the school and the city from the nurse station desk chair, lost in my thoughts.

Surprisingly, there were no grave injuries at the practice today, which meant my services were unneeded for the day. It was a good thing to, because I was growing abit bored, and I was grateful to Hanji for letting me leave earlier than normal. Judging the time to be right, I got up from her desk chair and approached my looker. I left some extra stuff inside of it, took my jacket and wore it, and hoisted my school bag over my shoulders. I decided to leave the station unlocked for her, and just walked along outside, meeting the perimeter of the field. 

I saw a horde of guys in green jerseys move along in packs across and along the pitch. Coach Erwin was commanding them all at once, redirecting some, praising others; he was the full embodiment of leadership. Hell, just watching him could motivate me to just start impulsively running. Whenever I saw him with his team, watching him do the thing he did best, I sort of got an idea of what Jean was talking about when he always mentioned school spirit. Speaking of Jean, I could spot him from where I was standing just from his hair - that undercut was impossible to miss. He - miraculously I admit - seemed to be in perfect condition, and was performing his little trick shots with a leg that was sprained a mere 4 days ago. Not only that, he seemed to be doing his 'exercises' with Eren, so seeing them physically cooperate was mind blowing. It could just as well be Erwin's doing, but either way, I was awestruck on how they managed to not kill each other in each other's company. I took the energy of the pitch in as I slowly walked towards the bus stop down on the road behind the school. Seeing how it was still extra curricular-hour, and that all the other students were either inside or at home, it was no surprise that he noticed me because of my not-green-jersey clothing attire. He flashed me a bright smile before patting Eren on his shoulder and running towards me. I appreciated the gesture, and I stopped dead in my tracks waiting for him.

"See?" He said as he approached me, beckoning behind him with a sideways glance towards Eren. "I've been good."

"Remind me to trust you more the next time you make me a promise," I told him, giving out the faintest of smiles.

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, looking at me with the warmest expression, causing me to swoon. Strongly. "You okay by the way?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"Your face is all red and...puffy."

"Oh! Yeah just...heatstroke," I lied, beckoning towards the Sun with my finger and gulping.

Jean just hook his head and chuckled. "You know, you can't go off blaming the weather for everything, you know that right?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked him. He just laughed loudly instead.

"Nothing, nothing," he said in between breaths of laughter. "Just my big mouth." 

We just kind of stood there looking at each other, me of course trying to look away for abit in an effort to not scare him off. He really did radiate in the sunshine, and I never really appreciated just how handsome he was. The way the sunlight his his spiky locks, and lightened abit of the undertone in his hair - it was mesmerising to even look at him, and patted myself on the back for my superior taste in men.

It wasn't long before he broke the silence.

"Oh yeah! There's a reason why I wanted to talk to you! I was planning on finding you at the station when practice ended and telling you, but seeing as you're leaing early today..." He sprung up and sprinted towards the changing rooms, leaving me there waiting for him. He re-emerged holding two pieces of red plastic paper which he ran to me to deliver.

"What's this?" I asked, looking at whatever he was about to give me.

"Tickets," he simply stated, placing the red little rectangular things in the palm of my hand. "For the school game this Friday. Bring a friend if you want to."

"Th-thanks," I managed to blurt out, partly because his fingers were still surrounding mine. I pulled my hand back ever so slightly until he got the hint and retracted his as well. "I thought you were gonna text me the schedule for your games?"

He put his hand behind his head and just rubbed it in embarrassment. "Well I was going to," he began, "...but I felt a personal approach was more appropriate. After all, you end up seeing me almost every week back in that nurse station bed, so I figured you'd be more used to me in person rather than on text." He couldn't contain a smile after saying that, so his mouth just sort of angled upwards halfway through him talking while his hands met in a clasp in front of him.

I couldn't help but laugh. I fidgeted with the tickets in front of me while simply responding with a meek "very funny." Immediately after however, a ringing whistle blow permeated the air and caught his attention, and his expression of joy on his face retreated.

"Listen I've gotta go." He pointed backwards with his head; "Coach Erwin needs us. If you've got anything you wanna ask me about, don't hesitate to text me." He patted my arm lightly, giving me a reassuring shake. I grinned at him, and he grinned back, before throwing me a "See ya!" followed by him running back towards his now regrouping team, while waving goodbye to me as he sprinted. I watched him go, before weakly exclaiming a goodbye of my own, and walking towards the bus stop, tickets held fiercely tight in my hand. Normally I'd be more excited to think about him at the game with all the others, imagining him play hard and just carrying that competitive team spirit all on his shoulders, but I felt I didn't need to this one time. There wasn't much need for fantasies and daydreams anymore. No more 'what ifs' and wondering. It was time for reality to finally start kicking in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7k words, jfc.
> 
> Tried to reinvent the writing style with this chapter. More "open" and alternating between humour and the more prose style writing. But it's a high school AU so...hope it balances out well. I'm actually more used to the more 'serious' style of writing (shocking I know), so writing this entire thing is a constant challenge for me. Then again it is my first fanfiction so it'd be a challenge regardless of writing style.
> 
> As I mentioned on Tumblr, I wanna apologise for not updating this fic, as I left it alone for like 3 months. I decided it was finally time to get back on it and so I made myself sit down over the past two days and just go back to writing. I also went back to the other two chapters and slightly edited them to make the whole thing abit more congruent, so feel free to re-read it if you want. 
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone, and let's hope the next chapter doesn't take this long. (From what my track record shows though, it probably will I'm so sorry bless)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never actually ever seen a football match. You'll be able to tell by this shitty excuse of writing a sports game.

I managed to catch a bus heading towards the general area of my house after loitering around the outskirts of the school for the better part of fifteen minutes. I stared out from my seat with headphones plugged in, viewing as random points of interest from the sidewalks and the buildings whizzed by, logos and people speeding through my vision as I sat there, rooted, looking out the scratched and dirty bus window. It gave me time to mull things over in my head and give my thoughts some breathing room. I ran over the recent interaction I had with Jean, chuffed that things with him took a head start. The possibility of something happening between him and I now seemed, well -  _possible._  It's one of those moments you have to pinch yourself to believe. Out of all those fix-me-up sessions with him week by week, awkward glances and feeble little "get well soons" slowly evolving to actual conversation; progress has, needless to say, been achieved. I reclined back in my seat, head resting on the galvanised railing of the preceding bus seat and just sat there, tapping my foot restlessly in tune with the song playing in my ears, with his football game's tickets still clutched in my hand and me restlessly waiting to return home and tell Sasha all about the recent turn of events.

After a few song shuffles later, the bus stopped in a place relatively close to home, causing me to get up from my seat and step off onto the concrete pavement. I thanked the bus driver and turned sideways, heading down the beaten field path towards my area, trying not to get my feet too dirty in the process. I simultaneously tried to retrieve my phone stuck deep in my jeans pocket to text my mum and let her know that I managed to get home, knowing that she'd worry and inevitably call me if I didn't. I desperately managed to try interchanging between focusing on texting and trying to make my way down to my street without tripping all over some overgrown weeds and wild shrubbery. I managed to send a decently worded confirmation of making it home safely before jumping down the little grass hill onto my street. Knowing that I’d need to speak to her, I also texted Sasha letting her know I’d need her to log into Facebook soon to talk to her. After sending the second text of the day, and safely landing on flat ground, I started running along the worn pavement towards my home. During the dash I felt a vibration in my pocket, but I chose to ignore it and focus on making it home. I reached it in a matter of minutes, albeit in a fit of heavy wheezing, so I gave myself a few seconds to relax, hands resting on my knees, before straightening myself up. I reached downwards to retrieve my mobile, opening it to find a reply from Sasha with just the words “ _Kay :P”_ included. After making sure I wouldn't pass out from dizziness, I switched my phone with my key and made my way inside.

I unlocked the door to find the place completely deserted, as it was on most weekday evenigs, before shutting the door behind me and pacing my way up the wooden stairs, hands steady on the railing. I briskly entered my room and flopped on my bed, still worn from the sprint home. I heaved myself up and grabbed my laptop from my desk, before returning to my soft, pale white bedding and opening up the screen in front of me. Reviving it from sleep mode, I hurriedly turned on Chrome and instantly logged in to Facebook, hoping to find Sasha’s profile in my contacts chat window, where I thankfully saw a little green bubble next to her profile picture.

 

 _“whatsup?”_  She typed immediately, barely giving me the chance to open the message screen. 

 _“You free Friday night?”_ I responded, trying not to beat around the bush. I waited for three little grey dots to turn into a message. 

 _“so forward. you taking me out on a date? it’s on you, just sayin.”_  

I sneered at her attempts at humour. _“Not even my college fund could afford whatever you plan on ordering if we went out. And no, it’s not a date.”_  

 _“yeah I kinda figured with the whole…you know…gay thing. And the fact that I look nothing like a quarterback.”_  

I saw she was still typing, so I skipped on replying.  _“speakin of which, how did it go with jean?”_  

Finally on subject. “That’s _what I wanted to talk to you about,”_ I began, hammering at the keys.  _“I closed the station abit earlier today, so I ran into him while he was still at practice. He kinda caught me looking at him, so he just ran up to me and we got to talking.”_

 _“smooth,”_ she butted in, not to mention adding the little sunglasses emoticon after.  _“anyway yeah go on.”_

  _"We just kind stood there talking, and then he just ran back and forth and he brought me tickets to the team’s match on Friday. Told me to bring a friend. So…yeah there you go. Wanna go?”_  I finished typing and just relaxed my fingers over the keyboard, waiting for her to RSVP. 

 _“hell yeah i'll go, but I'm driving. mum said I need to practice."_  

 _“Deal. Game starts at five. Wanna meet up beforehand?”_  

 _“sure. I’ll head on over there after school. give you a makeover”_  

 _“We did that like one time when we were like nine, and I am not letting you touch my hair ever again.”_ Sasha and I’s childhood escapades were traumatic to reflect on. 

 _“it wasnt that bad. Plus, Jean’ll like it ;))”_  

 _“If by ‘it’ you mean making me look like a knockoff version of Pippi Longstocking again, I’ll fucking wring your throat.”_  

 _“I bet hes into that stuff. If Connie had actual hair id totally give him that look. those pigtails drive me nuts man”_  

_“3 o clock. My place. Friday. Now shut up before I blow my brains out.”_

 

 _“See ya! ;P”_ she simply said, before I closed my laptop and just sat back on my bead, head hitting the pillows, staring into nothing. I just lay there with an empty mind, marginally falling asleep, before I felt today’s second vibration ring out from my pocket. Startled from the unexpected message, I arched my back and dived my hand down, trying to release my phone from my jeans. I unlocked it to find a message, and slid down the notifications bar, only to find Jean’s name on the sender I.D. A pleasant surprise, to say the least.

I smiled as I clicked on his name and opened the message. To anyone, a simple  _“I know it’s kinda soon to ask, but are you going? :P”_ would just be something to shrug off to, but to me it struck a chord.

I sat up and hastily typed my reply, beaming throughout most of it.  _“Yeah! I’ll finally be able to see in person what you’ve been pestering me about all this time."_

_"youll love it, I promise. I put on a nice show.”_

I grinned at his comment and decided to whisk up a little response of my own. 

 _“You better. I paid like…nothing to get these tickets.”_ I sent that to him, before my manners quickly followed suit and I followed it with a  _“Thanks btw, J.”_  I  apparently have this compulsive need to not leave people hanging.

 " _Hehe don’t mention it. You’ll pay me back some other time im sure.”_ I kind of just questioned his reply, trying to figure out what he meant.

 _“Meaning?”_ I typed out, before sitting back and biting my nails, waiting for whatever he was about to say to me.

_“youll think of something im sure”_

_“I don’t think I will. How about the fact that I’m coming to your game. Does that count for something?”_

_“you’re going with MY tickets, Bodt ;)”_

_“Which you GAVE me, Kirschtein.”_

_“Fine, we’ll figure out the ‘specifics’ later. I should go anyway, my mum is attempting to socialise with me so that means I have to…you know…exit the digital world.”_

_“I’m about to fall asleep anyway, my bed is so fucking comfy. See you tomorrow then!”_

_“Sweet dreams ;)”_

With that settled, I locked my phone and set it on the nightstand adjacent to my bed. I realised that I wouldn’t be awake enough to get any schoolwork done in my situation, so I just let myself fall asleep, melting all my problems away as I felt my eyes close and my thoughts drift away like smoke from an extinguished candle flame.

 

* * *

  

I must've passed the conventional nap duration, because I woke up to find myself coated in darkness. I whizzed up startled, trying to reach around for my phone and check the time. After establishing that four and a half hours had passed, I immediately swerved in place and felt the wall for the light switch, in order to navigate my way to my desk and start my homework.

The silver lining was that I was well rested from the hell that was yesterday’s all-nighter, and so I actually had the mental resolve to actually get my work done. While slaving away through all the assignments, trying to finish them at a reasonable hour, I realised I forgot to say hi to my mum, who by this hour was definitely home. I rolled my desk chair backwards and rubbed at my shut eyelids, which were weary and ached from the combination of crappy desk lighting and crappy text revision.

I got up, and made my way slowly down the stairs, looking around to find the rest of the house yet again deserted, save for the living room which was filled with warm dashes of buttery, soft yellow lights emanating from lampshade-filtered light bulbs. I managed to make out my mums thick black hair poking out the top of the couch, which turned to face me as I walked in.

She looked beautiful the way the light hit her. The times I most frequently saw her were the mornings, but she looked like an entirely different person compared to those. The high heels, the white-striped ashen-coloured business skirt, the kempt, jet-black hair braided in a bun – all of it gone. She looked less hardened. Her hair now just lay down in individual grouped strands down on the sofa pillows, while her makeup was gone and her natural features were brought out from the soft atmosphere of the room. You could catch a few sporadic wrinkles, and just subtle hints of freckles under her eyes. Less defined than mine, but they were there when foundation was absent.

I made my way up to her and she smiled at me as I did, grabbing me by the arm and caressing it. She turned back down to where she was facing, a book upturned and half open on her legs.

“Didn’t wanna wake you. Especially after last night,” she simply said, before looking up at me for a hint of a response.

I looked back down at her earnestly, a smile creeping its way on my lips. “Thanks mum,” I simply said, bending down to give her a small peck on the cheek. She placed her palm on my cheek before patting it.

“How was your day?” she asked, flipping her book back to reading position, splitting her focus between talking to me and 'Desert Dawn'. “Before you passed out, I mean.”

I made my way round and sat down in the couch opposite her. “It was okay, nothing big. Had a test that did…not go well to say the least,” I chuckled, trying to keep my mum off _that_ particular subject matter. “Then I just hung around the nurse’s station – no ‘customers,’ thank God – and I just headed home. One thing that _did_ happen though was that I got tickets.” She looked up at me and established eye contact. She pressed her finger between her two pages and initiated conversation again.

“Tickets for what?” she inquired, genuinely curious.

“Football game. Tomorrow. Going with Sasha,” I said, each point established firmly with little breaks in between.

“Since when are you interested in football?” she retorted questioningly, looking down to make sure she hadn’t lost her pages.

“Well it’s a school thing so I just figured I’d go. Plus it’d be nice to see half the reason we have a nurse’s station in the school in the first place anyway,” I explained, while resting my head back on the couch. "Oh and she's taking me, so you don't need to worry about transport and stuff. Going at five."

She nodded understandingly before returning her eyesight to her book. We just sat there for a few minutes, basking in the ambience of the room, until she spoke up.

“How much did the tickets cost?” she simply asked, eyes fixed on her pages. I looked up from my resting position, addressing her question.

“Nothing. They were a gift.”

“From?”

“Jean. He’s a friend of mine, and he's on the team, so no charge.”

“Jean? How come I’ve never heard of him?”

“We met like just a few days ago. Didn’t think I needed to introduce him before a single week passed.” It was my attempt to input some wittiness into the conversation, but she didn’t seem fazed by it. Instead she just frowned, but still continued reading.

“Did he have anything to do with the…you know.” She waved her hand in my general direction and I was not getting the hint.

“Wiiiithh….what?” I asked, trying to figure out her point.

“You know, the whole sleepless nights debacle I had to deal with today. I’m just making sure if he’s the one making you pull all-nighters and underperform in school.”

“You’re exaggerating,” I pointed out, getting up out of my seat, attempting to leave for a place anywhere than the living room before another school lecture had to begin.

“All I’m saying is –“ she quickly grabbed my arm and rooted me in place, “- just take care of yourself.”

I looked back at her comment with my typical 'I'm a teenager and you're wrong' face, which was not received well. She threw me a sour face, lips jagged and eyelids constricted. “You know what I mean. I’m just saying: don’t let yourself go overboard. Especially with someone new, you don’t know their limits. I haven’t even met this kid and he’s just off giving football game tickets to my son and staying up with him all night talking about God knows what and affecting his school performance.” This _was_ evolving into another full blown lecture, which I was absolutely not in the mood for.

“You sound like my friends,” I meekly responded, trying to let go, beckoning upstairs with my eyesight.

She sighed heavily, relaxing herself. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.” She unlocked her hand and let me go. I patted the area where she had her hand on me, trying to loosen the creases on my sleeve. I turned around to leave, but she stopped me by turning around. “Kiss goodnight,” she stated imperatively, which I responded to with a small peck on her cheek, an affirmative shoulder shake, and a run up the stairs back up to my room.

 

* * *

 

 

School the next day was relatively normal; I got through my classes without anything particularly important going on and since I didn't have an after-school shift I was free to leave normally with the rest of the students. I got a text from Sasha telling me to meet her in the parking lot as I was leaving the school building trying to find her, so it didn't take long to locate her.

"Yo!" she called beckoning me to join her. I saw her up ahead in the parking lot, her back leaning on her red Toyota Yaris, hands in her jacketpockets.  She looked like she put a little more effort into her appearance today, with her hair straightened out and arranged in two streaks on her respective sides, the back neatly trimmed and a combination of free flowing and hairband-held streaks. She covered her eyes with relatively large sunglasses; the dollar-cheap kind that last for a month and in her case coloured with the most obnoxious shade of blue conceivable. Topping it all off, I could make out her frilly summer shirt and jeans. with converse sneakers chosen as her casual footwear choice.

"Lookin good," I mention, as I got near her to the open-air parking lot.

"Just call me Iggy," she proclaimed, her arms widening over her attire. 

I started getting into the front seat, carrying my bags in with me. "Never would've pictured you as the kind of girl-" I began, bringing the seatbelt around me. "-to make hip-hop references." I clicked in place and watched her get in herself.

"Oh please, Fancy's too top 100 for any references about it to be obscure,'' she replied, fidgeting and thrashing in place until she was comfortable. Finally still, she mirrored me by adjusting her seatbelt along with checking her mirrors. She started making her way out of the driveway, which in a split second turned into a speedy rear swerve, throwing both of us off balance. She hit the brakes abruptly after managing to get her shock and breathing under control.

"Okay, note to self - the gas pedal isn't a place to practice whack-a-mole with your foot," she let out, looking down to evaluate her feet's position.

"How many times have you driven, exactly?" I asked, worry evident in my voice.

"Like...umm...." she began, slowly trying to steer on to the road in an appropriate manner, "a couple. But I was good, I swear!" Her attempts at calming me down weren't working.

"Right," I started. "Just don't get me killed. In case you haven't realised I've got a game to get to."

"We. _We_ have a game to get to. Don't shun me out, Bodt." She picked up her driving pace a little bit, finally achieving what appeared to be a respectable beginner's driving speed.

We kept the rest of the car ride going, exchanging conversation and me indirectly 'distracting her from her focus', which she 'absolutely had to maintain.' We passed by the familiar roads and bends before driving up to my house-front. I spotted my mum's car a bit further down the road, signalling that she was in fact home. Sasha parked her car half-on half-off the pavement. She was about to set the gear in reverse to have another go, which I was completely not up for.

"Just-" I started, placing my hands on hers on the wheel and stopping her, "- don't. Leave it be. I need to get out of this car." 

"C'mon it wasn't that bad," she protested, throwing me apologetic glances. "Practice makes perfect, that's what I say." She did end up giving up though, unbuckled her belt and got out of the car with her bags in hand, and I followed suit. Judging by the approaching distant footsteps and the clearly audible attempts of unlocking the front door, mum heard us pull up.

"Sasha!" she called out, walking down the steps and meeting us halfway atop the entrance stairs to the patio. Arms outstretched from beforehand, she took her in an embrace, positively ecstatic on seeing her again.

"Great to see you again, Mrs Bodt," she managed to squeeze out, obviously looking for a chance to slip out.

"Please, I told you to stop calling me that, we're basically family.  Come in sweetie, come in." She beckoned towards the house with her arm, walking with Sasha up the stairs. 

"I'll be upstairs if you need me!" I heard her call out from inside, my mum just standing there waiting for me to get near. I saw her expression turn from absolute shits and giggles to this confused contorted fashion after she turned around to face me. Her eyesight sort of fixated on the car behind me, and I just stood there, waiting for her to say something.

"What's with the car? It's like she ran out of gas halfway up the pavement." 

I laughed, before walking up to her and patting her shoulder. "Practice makes perfect mum." I smiled and began to follow Sasha up to my room. I probably confused her even more, judging by the way she just stood there dumbounded, before she just gave up and made her way inside as well, closing the door behind her.

"Food's cooking by the way. I'll call you both downstairs when it's done. Made her that beef roast she loves."

"Hopefully there'll be enough," I exclaimed, fully aware of Sasha's 'passion' for fine cuisine which was what she called my mum's kitchen. 

I made my way upstairs,  finding Sasha in my room fiddling with her phone and laying on her back on my bed. She lit up when she saw me as I was walking towards my desk chair, set her phone on her stomach and struck up conversation.

"Is food almost ready? I'm hungry. "

"You're always hungry," I responded.

She stood up and began walking towards me. "Yeah but today I saved up. Lunch at your house followed by crappy football game snacks? Its my heaven." She followed this personal little monologue by feigning syncope and falling on my knees, the cherry on top being her dramatic 'hand over her closed eyes' move.

"Just _transcend_ after getting off of me," I simply said, heaving her 'lifeless' body up into a standing position. She was laughing the entire time, adding insult to injury. "Did you bring clothes by the way? The stadium can get pretty cold at night."

"I thought you didn't attend one of the games yet. How would you know?"

"Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Wind plus night equals cold."

"Fine fine, I'll ask your mum for a jacket or something before we go." She plopped down on my bed, scanning the room for something to do. Eventually she just grabbed my laptop, opened Facebook and beckoned me to come lay down next to her. Seeing as cyber stalking was the best current option for entertainment, I complied and threw myself on the bed like her.

We just procrastinated for a long while, alternating between websites before we heard my mum's voice immediately ring throughout the house. "Lunch is ready!" Sasha jumped up excitedly and began to leave, but I made sure I spoke quickly before she was out of earshot.

"Apart from the jacket, ask her for some driving advice too."

 

* * *

 

The clatter of water against plates against silverware filled the kitchen from the aftermath of what Sasha nicknamed as the 'defining moment of her life.' She walked the walk too, as from across the table I could see her laying half dead on the kitchen chair, trying to support her spine up as she fought to stay fully conscious. It looked rather comical to be honest.

"Oh my God Mrs Bodt - I think you killed us." I could see my mum snicker from the sink where she was taking care of the washing up.

"Watch your pronouns," I said. "At least I didn't eat an amount enough to tranquilize a grizzly bear."

"Details details," she let out, waving disapprovingly at me, garnering another laugh from my mum. She set the last plate down before taking off her rubber gloves and making her way towards us.

"At least she knows how to eat," she proclaimed, wrapping an arm around Sasha's shoulders. "Reminds me of our family on the holidays."

"Note the use of the word 'family' and not 'niece' or 'cousin,'" I said, which got me a flat expression from Sasha and a slap on the head from my mum. Both felt equally painful. Sasha seemed to enjoy the slap though.

"Do it again, I want that as my profile picture," she said, her hand already in search of her phone.

"Anyway..." my mum began. "What time do you guys plan on leaving?"

Sasha checked her phone. "Around...like now!" she realised, before standing upright and making her way upstairs. "I wanna get tickets and seats so we better get there early," she called from the top.

"How is she even able to physically run up stairs after all of that?" I asked rhetorically. My mum responded with a shrug and a peck placed on my head where she previously hit me. This was of course followed by a slap on the neck beckoning me to follow Sasha upstairs. My mother communicated quite effectively through physical means. 

I got up and followed suit, before realising Sasha forgot to ask my mum for an extra jacket. I turned back to face her and asked her for a jacket Sasha could borrow. After receiving permission to raid her closet, I called up to Sasha to start preparing to leave.

"Bodt closet free-for-all! Come and get it!"

"Way ahead of you!" I heard Sasha call out from the vague direction of my mother's room.

I jogged inside to find her hanging leather jackets in front of her body, shifting between different pairs.

"How'd you know my mum would let you?"

"Cause I'm me. I'm like - the daughter she never had." She finally settled on a black poofy jacket, grabbing a red beanie in the process, before patting me on the shoulder and running towards my room. She exited after a short while with her phone, car keys and an open hoodie in her grasp. She tossed me the hoodie, adjusted her beanie and made her way down and out to her car. I followed, grabbing the house key off the hall's coffee table before shouting out a "don't wait up" to my mum, exiting the house and locking it behind me.

 

* * *

 

"This is horseshit!" Sasha called out in rage, slamming her hands on the wheel. "We set out early and traffic hit. Amazing."

"Will you relax? Its not even that big a deal. We'll get to the stadium in time and catch the game." I was a lot less uptight than Sasha about this stuff and our situation was no exception.

"There better be parking or I'm gonna rip someone's head off."

"I'm pretty sure your parking skills  _are go_ nna rip my head off." I looked over to see how my comment was received and found a perfect 50/50 mix of laughter and scowling. I tried to contain my laughter to make her break first, which I didn't get to see because the line if cars in front of us began to move down and her focus instantly reattached to the highway. "Fucking finally," she exclaimed, hands outstretched in relief and her foot pressing down on the pedal a tad too forcefully, sending us on our way with a sudden jolt.

After what Sasha described as 'fucking forever', we eventually reached the stadium parking lot, where an entire collection of cars filled every paint strip parking space in our view. We circled the place a few times, but with the coming twilight beginning to swallow up the remainder of evening sunshine, we had to improvise.

"Fuck it," Sasha said, before abruptly reversing and drifting diagonally next to the nearby concession stand. If my life was a cartoon, you would definitely see smoke whisping up from the tracks _clearly_ embedded on the tar. Confident with her 'parking' space, she got out of the car and beckoned me to follow her. I was still rooted in my seat, afraid to get up in fear of the car swerving into the stand or falling back on its own to hit another car or something. After such a sudden and unwarned display of driving, it was hard to think logically. 

Growing impatient, she made her way over and tapped on the window hard, snapping me out of my little static state and signaling me to run after her. After opening my door for me and tossing the car keys on my lap, she took off and left, which forced me to stand and start to catch up to her. After closing and locking, I ran and followed her to the stadium entrance, where the traditional stadium sounds of roars of indistinct chatter, trampling and whistle blowing filled the spring air.

We opened the double doors and after making our way up to the top, let me just say - the scale of the whole thing was bizarre. Sure, it was just a stadium the district used for events, but it was still incredibly dynamic. All you could see was a myriad of colours; the sky was by then almost covered in darkness, but the stadium lights shined sharply in all directions, illuminating both the stadium and the shadows of faint, distant clouds. In the stands themselves, crowds upon crowds of people huddled together in their respective seat sections, their attire blending everyone into one big overpopulated bunch. On the pitch itself, I recognised the school's bottle-green/white combination on the players' jerseys, who were themselves running around in groups on the field, darting around in high energy.

I tried to figure our who Jean was, but since their helmets meant no hair was showing, and no hair showing meant no surefire way to identify him. Sasha though pulled me away fast before heading towards the stands, looking to find a seat. As we walked down the steps, I shot a few extra glancesin the distance, but no luck.

After shoving ourselves between two separate clusters of parents and students, we finally relaxed, content with our view of the game. We were pretty far and high up which not necessarily spectacular, but we were smack-dab in the middle of the two sides and our altitude made the whole thing just a tad more riveting.

"Having fun yet?!" Sasha asked after leaning towards my ear, desperate to get through to me from the thick chatter that surrounded us.

I leaned to her in similar motion. "I'm not gonna lie this is pretty badass!"

She laughed and her lips formed a grin, so I was happy to see her happy. Seeing her eyes dart around, I could tell she registered something through the look in her eye, which was followed by her getting up, only to bow down again to make herself audible.

"Snack vendor. Want anything?!"

"Just some water! Thanks!" She nodded reassuringly before straightening herself and making her way up to what I assume was some guy selling food and drink off a strap-on container.

With no one to talk to for the time being, I just sat there, taking the whole thing in. I slowly began to understand what Jean was talking about when he talked about the whole 'electric feel' of the whole thing, but I always thought of him as exaggerating his passion or whatever. Guess he was right.

A thunderous whistle rang out and immediately startled me and apparently everyone in my line of sight, as the stadium fell silent. I could make out our principal (who I took to calling man in black due to his needlessly obvious suit choices) make his way over to the sound station, picking up a mic and making his way to the center the pitch. Meanwhile, loud shushing and footsteps on metal could be heard as I saw Sasha run down the stairs and towards me, plastic water bottles in her hands and a paper food bag held in her mouth.

"Whhd I mthss?" She asked, her voice muffled by the bag. She tossed me my water before sitting down and spitting the bag out on her thighs.

"Nothing," I said, laughing at her pained expression of carrying food around like a dog. "They're about to start."

The sharp ring of the mic pierced the air, and with the confirmation that it was indeed working, he began.

"Welcome everyone, to another match here at Sina stadium."

"The principals announcing the match?" Sasha asked with a mouth full of hot dog.

"Shhhh," I waved at her, silencing her.

"For starters," MiB began, "I would like to thank all of you - spectators, students, parents alike - for attending the match and supporting your school district." This was met by sudden applause from all around us, Sasha throwing out occasional 'Woos' and loud whistles which made the fact that the only reason she came was because I invited her all the more hilarious.

The principal clapped with them for a few seconds before picking the mic again and signalling silence. After the stadium returned to a state of whispers, he continued.

"May I also extend a warm welcome to today's away team, the Ragako Titans," he announced, beckoning to the team on the opposite side of the field, who donned red and white jerseys. "And of course, our own Sina Rangers." Being the home team's stadium, everyone clapped just a  _tad_ more excitedly for the Rangers.

"Now that I think about it, what's up with the Japanese sounding names?" Sasha asked from right next to me.

"No clue," I responded.

After the cheering came to an end, I could see the players start arranging themselves on the field. In spite of my prior distraction, I now noticed that most of our team had their helmets off, and I could just catch Jean making his way to the rear of the formation. Sasha caught me staring, and her smirk was not at all subtle. A few hints of good-lucks and pats on the back could be identified before everyone 'armed' themselves and arranged into their respective places.

"I know we're all excited to begin," he went on, "so I won't stall any longer. Captains, come to the center."

Jean, along with another guy from Ragako's team met in the center and firmly shook hands. MiB then took a coin from his pocket and proceeded to flip it. Jean, gauging by his reaction, must've won the coin toss, and started to head back to our side's team.

"What's going on now?" I whispered to Sasha.

"Kick-off I guess," she replied.

Her prediction was correct, since the all-mighty leather oval was brought out onto the field, and  placed down on the tee in between the opposing sides. Someone from the Rangers held it steady with his finger, while the kicker took a few paces backwards, preparing to kick it. After a few moments, the iconic whistle rang out, signalling the beginning, wherein said kicker dashed across after a few preparatory in-place jumps and kicked the ball flying.

The entire stadium immediately flooded with roars of excitement as the ball flew high up, reaching its maximum point of altitude before landing in the hands of the opposing team. The race was on, as the players began to assemble and push on. There was something that could best be described as a moshpit down the middle of the pitch as everyone tried to block each other, with a handful of players darting along the sidelines; the Ragakos trying to reach our side and our own Rangers attempting to stop them.

It was just a flurry of red, white and green flying all around the stadium, everyone trying to get their hands on the damn ball. After a few successful dodges from incoming tackles, a Ragako finally went down and his ball fell with him. The stadium once again broke out into a spectacle of cheers, some even standing up from anticipation. As the ball bounced slightly on the field, a speedy Ranger swooped in and threw it backwards, aiming for Jean, who I could make out from his previously identified jersey number. Scanning the field carefully yet hastily, he finally managed to catch sight of someone in an advantageous position quite a long way down the field and, following said observation, beckoned to someone in the middle who was in a midway position between them. After signalling with an arm gesture and a mutual head nod, he prepared and threw the ball flying right into the middle's hands, who in turn redirected it to the Ranger way down the field in a matter of seconds, almost effortlessly. After that charge in the initial stages of the match, Ragako's side was relatively unguarded and the crowds picked up on this. A slow build up of mass encouragement from the crowds, the panicked dash of the Ragakos who were trying to make it back to their side and help the one or two interceptors left to stop the Ranger's dash, the lightning quick pace he himself was dashing in - it really was sensational. With one leap and side step, he skillfully escaped the attempts to stop him, where he finally reached the end of the Ragako's side, slamming the ball down and earning a thunderous round of applause from the entire stadium - spectators and teammates alike.

"This is amazing!" dragged on Sasha, arms raised in excitement, in accordance to the crowds excitement. I couldn't help but chuckle at her happy-go-lucky attitude, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't getting kind of a 'contact high' from the whole thing. The whole thing was shockingly enjoyable.

The whole match carried on in a similar manner. The hordes cheered in the good times and bad, as successful and failed tactics ensued from both sides, everyone just _feeding_ off the atmosphere of the match. However with the clock ticking down and the outcome slowly becoming more and more assured for a home victory, the cheers for the match slowly transformed into claps and whistles for the Rangers. The term 'out with a bang' sure as hell applied here, as when the timer signalled the match to have come to an end, every single joule of energy culminated throughout the ordeal was finally unleashed instantly. Everyone standing up immediately in a frenzy of excitement, trying to clap their hearts out as vigorously as possible, Sasha and I hugging each other as tightly as possible to at least convey a certain amount of pride in our team, our players themselves jumping around in all directions, congratulatory hugs and huddles exchanged between almost all of them. The entire stadium itself seemed to shake in tune with the sheer amount of joy that was just emanating from everything and everyone.

At the end of it all, looking down and around at everyone; the people, the pitch, Sasha, Jean; I was truly glad I came, and not just as an obligation following his personal invitation. It was something otherworldly and new, something I definitely needed to feel. Sasha obviously shared that sentiment, judging from her expression which just screamed "I'm pumped as fuck." Despite it being the end of the game, we just hung around in our seats until the crowds of people lessened so that leaving the stadium wasn't a challenge in itself. We just sat there, enjoying the mix of autumn evening chill and the heat of excitement, people-watching the leaving families and students. Soon enough, it was just leftover groups, a shitton of discarded drink and food containers and the football team itself exiting the locker rooms and going back out on the field following their victory.

Sasha and I decided it was time to go back, but we had an interruption in between our getting up and our leaving.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Confused, we both turned around to see who was calling us. Sure enough:

"Hey, Jean!" Sasha greeted, face still grinning from the night. I took cautionary steps and kind of put myself behind Sasha to settle my excitement. "Great game tonight. You actually managed to get me out of the house. Much appreciated."

He laughed at her comment. "Don't mention it," he replied with the same level of glee in his voice, followed by an embarassed-type of shyness. "You are, by the way?"

"Sasha," she answered, offering a handshake to which Jean accepted. "I came here with Marco," she mentioned, gesturing behind her in my general direction. I managed a meek little wave.After registering what was said to him, he managed a few nods, a kind of neutrality evident in his expression. He soon went full circle and just returned to his usual cocky attitude. He looked past Sasha towards me.

"So - was I right all this time? My sport is pretty awesome, isn't it."

I stepped out in front to talk to him face to face. "Fine, fine, you're right. I ended up having a great time tonight. Thanks for the tickets by the way."

We just stood there, all three of us, grinning like uncomfortable idiots at each other. Sasha thankfully chose to break the silence.

"So um, did you want us for anything? You looked like you were in a hurry before to reach us."

"Oh yeah!" He called out. He answered Sasha, but spoke to me. "So, um, Marco, remember the whole 'pay me back' for the tickets thing?"

"You were serious? Shit, sorry Jean. Just, like, tell me how much and I'll have it for you by, like Monday the latest."

As if my offer was something humorous, he instantly broke out in laughter. Confused, I asked him what was up with him.

"I don't want any of your money Bodt," he explained, laugh settling down to just a simple grin. "I'm offering you something. An - _opportunity_ , if you will."

"Interesting," Sasha butted in, throwing me a quick wink.

I motioned with my eyes to ensure she shut up, before asking Jean for some clarity.

"Well, the team organised this whole 'Gracious losers/Fuck-yeah-we-won' party in the event of any outcome for the match - obviously option number two is the winner. So, in the interest of being in charge of correspondence and the desire to have a certain repayment fulfilled, I'm inviting you to said party." Finishing his speech, he chimed in instantly. "Oh! And Sasha too, of course."

Sasha and I just sort of looked at each other. I wasn't necessarily a party kind of guy, but Sasha was clearly egging me on to do it. I was afraid of the mix of alcohol, Jean and the high of victory, but that trio of factors were also all screaming yes. Human nature is a cruel bitch.

Jean seemed to decide for me though. "Oh and - you have to say yes. Otherwise I'll boycott the nurse's station. And don't even try to convince me otherwise because I will _definitely_ go there."

I snickered, half at his joke and half to ease the tension that was building up inside of me. Finally, I gave my answer.

"O...kay? I guess? Maybe?" I turned to Sasha. "What do you think, wanna go?"

Happy with my answer, she was wasted no time in giving her answer. "Nah, I've gotta get the car back to my parents anyway but you kids have fun!" she called out, patting both our shoulders before making her way up the stairs to the exit.

Flabbergasted at her reaction, I called out. "Wait! How am I getting to the party then? And home!"

"Oh don't worry about that, I'd be happy to drive you," Jean quickly offered, sympathetic grin almost plastered on his expression. Sasha seemed to be happy with the situation, as she signaled a peace sign goodbye, throwing a really subtle thumbs up to me in the process, and made her way out to the parking lot.

After a while, he spoke up.

"So..."

"So," I repeated.

"Shall we uh...get going?" He took out his keys from his pocket.

"Seems like you already made that decision," I humoured, earning me a smirk and a "come on" from him.

 

* * *

 

The car ride was relatively uneventful, mostly filled with exchanges of admiration for the night's match and less-topical small talk. Eventually we reached a cul-de-sac with quite a noticeable queue of cars lined up across the sidewalk and an ever increasing number of teenagers lingering in groups outside. The echoed booms from distant speakers permeated the car, even from our distance, which meant this was one hell of a 'fuck yeah we won' party. The butterflies started to dance around in my stomach again - the nervous kind - so distracting myself with conversation seemed almost vital at that point.

"Your place?" I asked him.

"Yep," he said, after picking up his keyring which contained a remote controlled gate opener, which he pressed to slowly have the insides of the house's garage revealed. He drove into it, pressing the button again after safely making it in and getting out of the car.

"Parents don't mind?" I was curious at the noise acceptance level of this 'gathering'.

"They go out for dinner in accordance to my football schedule. Works out best for everyone," he explained before making his way to my side of the door and closing it behind me.

"Such a gentleman," I joked, hands contorted in a 1920's elitist fashion.

"Only the  _best,_ " he replied in an accent thicker than mine. The cherry on top of this whole thing was his sturdy bow and outstretched arm, beckoning me to take it.

"Well," I followed, accepting his gesture. "Don't mind if I do." At this point I had passed Julia Child and just went into a whole other dimension of posh, which was apparently too much to bear with a straight face. After (failed) contained smirks which evolved into excessive laughter, he beckoned me to follow him into the house from the garage door.

After opening said door, the music just roared in, covering everything around me in a thick blanket of bass. The rest of the surroundings didn't help either, as a mix of red cups, incredibly cloudy conversation and intoxicated couples making out only worsened the feeling of 'holy shit I'm about to drown in a sea of adolescence.' Jean just seemed to glide in unfazed, closing the door behind him and taking off his jacket, throwing it on whatever flat surface was nearest to him. He led me in by guiding me from his hand on the low of my back, away from the main center of events and towards the drink stand, where hearing each other only required just a tad bit of effort.

"Can I get you anything? Vodka? Tequila? Or are you more of a shots kind of guy?"

"Holy shit! Slow down there! A beer is fine for now, thanks."

"Suit yourself," he accepted, grabbing out a beer from the cooler and tossing the bottle towards me, followed by a colourlees long-necked bottle for himself.

"I swear, it's like you're actively trying to get me drunk." I unscrewed the cap and took a sip.

"And what if I am?" He said, tipping his bottle in my direction before making his way out backwards. I didn't really know what to say to that, so I just stood there, baffled. "Blend in. Mingle. Its you're night too!" he called out, before I lost him to the party crowd.

Deciding to follow his advice, I took a few more sips from my bottle before finding an empty seat that did not have people or dry vomit on it. I just reclined into the cushions, analysing the room and the people in it.

There weren't many acquaintances present, just familiar faces from different classes and years that I passed by in school. The place itself was also pretty ordinary, with multicolour party lights spread all over and the current week's Top 40 playing on loop. After a few minutes though, a sudden tap on the shoulder shocked me and caused me to spin around, trying to put a face to the finger.

"Fancy meeting you here."

It was refreshing to see a friendly face there. "Likewise, Berthold." I was grateful of not having to be the only one to have to suffer through the night. "Not to sound like a dick, but what beings you here?"

"Invite from Reiner," he answered, beckoning to some well-built guy who was just standing in a group thrashing to the music in a drunk frenzy. "You see - being best friends with a defender has its perks."

"Defender; so he's part of the moshpit division of the team?"

"That's a name for it," he said with a laugh and a swig of alcohol. "What about you?"

"Same, although my invite's from Jean," I explained.

"How's that going by the way?" he asked me.

"Well, he invited me to his game and drove me to his party. So like, we're practically married." I followed Berthold's example and took another gulp.

"Again, good luck with the whole thing." He flashed me a sincere grin and shook my shoulder, before standing up. "I'm going to get another drink, want anything?"

"Another one of these-" I beckoned to my beer "- would be great." He nodded before walking away, leaving me alone yet again.

Not having anyone to talk to, I went back to spectator mode, sinking back in my seat. Another interruption followed soon though, this one a lot more sudden and emphatic.

"Him! There he is!"

Me not usually being the centre of attention, it was incredibly alarming to be dragged up from a seat by strangers and being paraded around the party. The previously heard drunk voice continued. "He's...he's the one who fixed up my leg in time for practice." It wasn't necessarily hard to realise that Jean was the instigator of all this, but his voice was a lot more gruff and droopy when he was clearly intoxicated. "To the nurse!" he called out, which was met by thunderous party woos and a unified sequence of toasting and drinking from everyone around me, which incuded: Jean, party strangers, the football team, and a bunch of people who looked way too old to actually be in high school. My eyes darted around, trying to avoid the commotion around me. I managed to catch a glimpse of Berthold hurriedly briskly to the scene. Upon seeing me, the - metaphorically - little shit toasted as well, took a sip from the drink he brought me before walking away with a smile.

All of this was incredibly overwhelming, the huge crowd of people walling me in place. I was starting to clench up from the suffocating feeling, but Jean came to my rescue and secured me from the hurdle. Although he was obviously too drunk to function, he wrapped his arm around my neck while high-fiving the teammates with his free arm. At the same time he steered me away from the crowd in the direction of his kitchen, which was relatively desolate. He unhooked himself from my neck and after making sure he could recline on his counter-top safely without falling on his ass, he struck up conversation.

"Sorry about the...uh...the commotion," he managed, his actions a combination of confused gestures and drunk babble. "Had to give credit where credit was due." His hair was already in a tangled mess, his eyes were bloodshot and his breath stank of what could only be described as hand sanitizer and shame. 

"Jean it's been like ten minutes - did you actually drink that entire bottle?" I asked as I reclined on the counter opposite him, actually worried for his well-being.

"And then some!" he replied excitedly, as if getting shitfaced in record breaking time was some sort of achievement to him. "What about you?"

"Still on my beer," I motioned, waving the nearly empty bottle in the air.

"Oh Christ don't bother with that," he said, suddenly annoyed by my drink choice. "You deserve top shelf shit, not shitty party beer." He spun around and reached into his freezer, wherein he pulled out a glistening, giant, amber coloured bottle. After setting it down between us, he unscrewed the jet-black lid and took a sizable swig, _pouring_ the liquid down his throat. After most of the upper part of the bottle was just hollow glass, he set it down again, sighing painfully with clenched eyes before setting it down in front of me.

I was hesitant, due to my previous alcohol experience being limited to house-party-friendly choices, but I accepted anyway. I gingerly took the bottle, and tipped it backwards in preparation a few times before allowing the contents to slowly flow into me.

It was chilled, enticing, strong. It was quite a lot to handle, so I only managed half a mouthful before I had to take a break. My throat and chest heated up as it traveled down, and I had to cough up any residue stuck in my mouth. Jean just sneered loudly at my efforts, which he just followed with another effortless gulp from the bottle after taking the bottle out from my grasp. I hoped he'd take his time with it; the drink was already flaring out into my body, my mind was starting to get fuzzy, and to be frank I needed to recuperate before taking another sip.

He placed the bottle between us again, satisfied with his portion. He looked up to find me slightly squirming in my seat, as I was quite obviously starting to physically collect myself. "Something wrong?" he asked, expression shifting from pleasant drunkenness to curiosity.

"Nothing, it's just...it's a pretty strong drink to down." Not wanting to worry him for no big reason, I took the bottle and downed another sip, much smaller than my last effort.

He looked down, waiting for me to finish my turn. "Hope you don't feel guilty or anything." He looked up and, seeing as I was not in fact currently drinking, grabbed the bottle.

"Guilty?" That word took me by surprise. "For what?"

"I don't know I just..." He readied the bottle to the tip of his lips. "I don't think your girlfriend would appreciate you doing stuff like getting drunk without her knowing." He took a swig.

I was taken aback. _Girlfriend? What the hell was he talking about? He didn't mean..._

"Are you talking about Sasha?" I asked, afraid to hear the answer. He nodded in agreement, halfway through his drink.

"Jean, Sasha's not my girlfriend. We're not even dating, we're just friends."

The news obviously took him by surprise, as his eyes opened in a quick motion. "Oh- oh." He set his drink back down on the counter, his face looking as equally taken aback as mine was. "Sorry, I just. I just assumed, you know."

"It's okay, what's there to be sorry for?" I decided to try and lighten up the mood, so I took the bottle and, determined, took a few sips myself. He smiled at me, returning to his initial emotion of the night.

"So um, anyone else then? I mean not anyone _else_  I just mean. I mean like - is there anyone. Not Sasha. Anyone now." He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to understand what he meant and expecting a reply for me.

I laughed shyly at his question, hesitation and nerves painfully obvious on my face. I didn't know whether it was the mix of the party, the alcohol, or the guy in front of me, but I decided to just tell him. I thought it was fair he knew.

"Haha...well, no actually. Ummm, oh God - how do I say this." I collected myself, trying to to formulate a response that I deemed suitable. My hands fingered around the bottle tip, mirroring the swerve in my brain as I tried to find the guts to say it to him. "Jean I'm not ever gonna date Sasha. Or any girl for that matter."

He looked up at me, stricken by my confession. I decided to just go with it, and just fucking _say_  it.

"I'm, uh, I'm gay, Jean."

His eyes widened at my response and I could make out his body start to shift in place. I saw him just _sit_ there, catatonic, unable to react. Curious and admittedly frightened, I weakly waved my hand in front of his still eyes, trying to garner a response from him. I ended up calling his name a few times, ever so quietly, to try and reach him beyond the alcohol and the shock. It wasn't working, and I truly was beginning to worry. However,as if something just suddenly _snapped_ inside him, he grabbed the bottle off the counter, throwing me back on my seat in surprised fear, as I watched him down a sizeable amount of whiskey before throwing it across the counter-top, shattering its base in the process which caused a small streak of alcohol to flow down the counter and onto the floor. Terrified, I began to get up from my seat and attempt to call for someone, but he immediately walked over to me, put his hands on the back my head and pushed my lips onto his.

He kissed me.

Let that sink in. He actually _kissed_ me. I just stood there and took it, every conceivable thought and sensation running through my veins. Fear, passion, adrenaline. Even as his lips moved against mine, his hands stroking the nape of my neck, I couldn't react at all. It was like fantasy met reality and the result was an explosion of thoughts and physical stimuli clashing together in just the most indescribable frenzy. After prolonged motions, he finally gave one last, hard tug at my lips before parting, looking in my eyes for some sort of reaction - some confirmation that what was happening was indeed okay. I stood there, looking point-blank at his face as I felt my heart palpitate, pumping blood and god knows what else through my intoxicated body and mind.

And then I felt that drive in me. That push. And it pushed hard.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and attacked his lips, which, based on the fact that we both crashed backwards on the chair counter-top, took him by surprise. He quickly adjusted though, as I felt his fingernails claw at the back of my hoodie. We tried to grab onto as much of the other as we could, each place of contact a battle. He quickly overpowered me, taking initiative and turning us around so that he was pushing me on the counter-top. He kicked the chair to the side of the floor, and lifted me up so that he was standing, kissing me as I was just a bit higher than him on his kitchen counter-tops. He pushed into me, closing between our lips and our bodies, which summoned up this whole carnal need inside me, with sense and reason muffled by the alcohol and the heat between me and Jean, which was overpowering the both of us and just  _engulfed_ us in a firestorm of passion.

He broke the kiss for air, lifting himself off of me and wiping his mouth. He took a step back, throwing occasional glances at the floor and to me, awaiting for me to say something. Finding myself free to move, I steadied myself up in place and straightened my clothes, looking straight at Jean. I was still heated and quite aroused, and found myself unable to say something; use of my energy for something other than kissing him felt trivial and misplaced. After a few seconds of just looking at each other, the space in front of me feeling vacant without his presence,  Jean extended his hand towards me and just looked at me, assured. It didn't take a genius to figure out where his hand was going to lead me, but at that point I didn't care. I was just a flurry of feelings, as I couldn't put a name to anything I was experiencing. Hazy, horny, confused, hot - none of it seemed to hit the mark. There was only one sure thing going through my head right now, and it was staring right at me - literally. He had been on my mind so long, the usual complications of a crush - the sleepless nights, the jittery tone of voice when you talked about him, the occasional moments of shameful self indulgence - but now they were all wiped blank as he kind of manifested from object in my fantasies to right in fucking front of me, hand outstretched and waiting for me to take it. I jumped off the counter, pacing my walk towards him. After closing in, I slowly lifted my hand and placed it in his, to which he tightly held, safe in his grasp. He led me out back into the party and up to the stairs. As we trekked our way up the wooden steps, the entire swirl of party fever - the commotion, the piercing shouting, the incessant music, the red lights beneath us; all like a stormy sea crashing down on our sky-high, impenetrable cliff - it was all getting further and further away. We ascended up and up, before finally escaping to the dark, concealed hallways of his house, like a couple of magpies soaring through a veiled, moonless night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They gon' frick ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 
> 
> As you can tell this will probably go M and/or E rating quite soon in the story.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit warning. You know what that means.

He pushed open the door to his bedroom, banging it on his dresser while he still had me in his arms. Fighting between kissing me and moving us closer to our destination, he made subtle glances with shut eyes telling me he intended for us to move on the bed. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck as we moved backwards, extending my leg backwards to grapple the door and kick it shut again. I was physically starting to feel an ache in my mouth for how long my mouth had been open, and my toungue was getting tired from constantly intertwining with his. After the last of many, many exchanges, I tore apart our kiss for a desperate breath of air, desperate to fill the taste of saliva and whiskey with something less depraved.

Jean didn't reciprocate though; he saw me parting our kiss as an opportunity to attack another region, as he decisively bit down on my throat. 

Whimpering from the sensitivity of the region and the overall excitement build up, I just let a silent gasp cripple my stomach as he smoothed my neck with his toungue, planting kisses as he went along. I started losing my balance, but he kept me still, just long enough for me to last until we pressed his hand up to the back of my neck and started pulling me down. Realising we were on the bed, I flopped on top of him, careful not to squish him in the process. He gave a few tugs at my Adam's apple before returning to my mouth, muting any chances I had of moaning and giving our position to any potential hallway-dwellers. He placed me on my side and half-sprawled himself over me, surrounding me with his body on one side, his locking arms on the other. We kept that position, me secured in place being kissed by the guy of my dreams, while he slowly started to drift down with his palm. I felt his touch over my hoodie straps and t shirt - a slight cold moment where his fingers brushed against a small fragment of uncovered skin due to my t-shirt folds - all the way down to my jeans. It felt like a huge weight, to have someone pressing down on  you like that, especially since your body was  _clearly_ aiming to press in the opposite direction. His mouth followed the direction his hand laid for him, as he went down my neck, planting a few pecks on my covered chest. Grimacing at the fabric that kept him between my skin, he motioned me to pivot myself up and take off my shirt. 

I did as told, and took off whatever garments I could throw off of me in record time. I lay there, bare-chested, while Jean just grinned at made his way down to one of my nipples. It was indescribable; like being touched for the first time was really worth the hype. I felt toungue circle around it, erecting it, while his hand started to motion circularly around my jean-clad crotch. It was the perfect mix - the contrast of teasing and containment down south while up north he was pleasing the most sensitive part of my body. It was hot and cold, constraining and liberating. I arched my back on the bed, and whimpered as I no longer had someone to force my lips closed. He seemed to enjoy the attention, as his free hand was brought up to take his mouth's place, and he made his way downwards. Down my navel and my happy trail, arriving to the thick, rough fabric of my jeans. This three-pronged approach was unbearable. I felt like a caged litle beast, just desperate to break out of whatever constraints I was still tied up in.

"J-Jean..." I made out between forced exhales.

"Mmmm?" He grunted, his mouth busy with activities less important than talking.

"Sit up," I told him.

Taken aback by what I said, he still left his hands where they were but stopped what he was doing and straightened his back on the bed. I immediately got up from my laid back position and instead lay face down on the bed in the opposite direction, looking up at him.

Pursing my lips, my naked arms reached upwards to grab to his body, slowly making their way down to his crotch. He seemed to enjoy it, judging by his low-key grunts of approval, as I finally found where his penis was hidden by fabric and tugged at his outline roughly. After determined grapples I switched things up, placing one hand to do the job instead while my other cupped down on his jeans under my other arm, to give all of him equal attention. He once again took initiative and placed his large hand on mine, guiding me where to stroke. With the other he reached for my head and dug it onto the uppermost bump in his jeans, his moans growing more and more irritated. My heart beating uncontrollably and my pace growing more and more fervent, I placed my hands around his belt buckle and unfastened as fast as my intoxicated mind would let me. Every clang of the metal that I heard reminded me of how much closer and closer I was getting to becoming officially marked, active, impure. And no decision I'd ever made sounded better than getting closer with him; in the physical and metaphorical sense.

Finally managing to budge it lose, I swung each end of the belt to either side, not bothering to pull it out of its belt loops. Instead I pulled down his jeans the second they were loose enough to go down, exposing his lower half which was a lone pair of black boxers - heavily outstretched by an erection. I was much more in a hurry than he was, and instead of toying around, I simply pulled down the elastic low enough for him to come out, before letting go and pulling it down to his knees which were on the bed. I immediately grappled him, admittedly daunted by its size, but I was deadset on making this happen. After stroking the base for a few tugs, I stretched him back slightly and took him into my mouth, working him back and forth as painlessly as I could. I shut my eyes to adjust to the foreign presence in my mouth, and all I could focus on in that moment was keeping him happy. I combined my toungue with hand motions, interlacing a handjob and a blowjob as one as I worked on it, initial meekness replaced by burning passion and desire. He was full on grunting by the time I adjusted my speed. He clearly abandoned any ideas of keeping this discreet as he actively responded to what I was giving him. Enjoying the feeling, he slowly began to take off his jersey, throwing the green-tinted oversized garment off of his body, exposing his well built chest and abdominals, tastefully concealed by the full moonlight.  Back and forth, back and forth, swirling, a pause, a tug, a push - I improvised in whatever way I thought worked, and he pushed with me. He started thrusting slightly in place against the inside of my mouth, one of his arms a pillar to support him on the bed as he lay back suspended in the air, the other grabbing me by the hair and pulling me on it, making sure I was fully committed to what I was doing.

I wasn't sure exactly how long we stayed that way, but I knew it was long enough. I slowly made my way to myself, my hand roughly grasping my jeans to answer my body's natural yearning for attention. Jean, noticing this, steadied himself on his knees again, his arms finding their way to the top of my scalp. Almost immediately, he held my face where it was while he abruptly started thrusting into my mouth, unrelenting. I felt him go back further and further, with each push only seconds in between one another, He constantly sped up until he was moving so fast he wasn't even fully exiting and entering, until he stopped with a loud grunt and held himself inside my throat, refusing to move. I sat there still, eyes shut tight in relief and trying to maintain control over my gag reflex as the spit started to accumulate on his tip and around it, coating my throat with pre-cum and my own saliva. He slowly started to pull out, then all at once - leading me to a small coughing fit as the foreign mass left my mouth. My spit remained, dangling from his penis to the top and bottom of my lips. He placed a finger on them and picked it up before spiraling the sticky liquid around his tip and proceeding to spread the spit around his head by jerking himself. After a few second of regaining my composure, he rose me up and I followed. We faced each other, sitting on our knees, looking at each other with a heated sense of admiration. 

He grabbed me again and kissed me, this time in a more "embracing" fashion as he held me by the small of my back and the side of my face, while I rested my palms on where his chest met his neck. He began to push down on me, eventually lying on top of me on the bed and moving to caress my erection behind my jeans. Once again startled by the sensation, I turned to bite the pillow while I felt his grip on my jeans, unbuttoning and pulling them down to my horizontally laid feet. I was left there in my underwear, vulnerable to his touch. Unlike what I did, he started from the back of my briefs, first pushing my legs up in the air from my position. After grabbing the fabric from the base of my back, he slowly and sensually slid them upwards, teasing me by halting his pace as the then-attached fabric that clung to my sensitive crotch was forcefully detached from it. I - very verbally - winced from the tickling sensation, but my alarm was replaced by sexual arousal as I felt skin on skin contact between my erection and his. Angling himself down on me, he grinded our erections together, his previously semi-lubed  one briskly wrapping and working off mine. We both managed to make out moans of excitement - me more so than him- while he caressed and slapped my now-exposed cheeks with his hand. Beckoning me to jerk off in the meantime, I did as he told me and just stroked myself, looking down to find him position his penis strategically anterior to me. Realising what was going on, I just kept doing what he told me to do as I could make out him spitting on his hand a few times before spreading it around his erection and finally pressing it against me. 

Nothing could've prepared me for the feeling I felt next. Complete and total subservience to someone. I jerked myself harder to avoid any negative thoughts I was having about this whole thing, trying to filter out the shattering pressure with as much familiar pleasure as possible. I'd tried fingering before a couple of times, but this was on a whole new level - like light punches compared to cannon-fire. I just looked up at the ceiling of his room, scared of showing displays of discomfort, waiting for my body to begin adjusting to him inside of me. After steadying himself in a fixed position, he started thrusting back and forth, subtle movements slowly but surely evolving into noticeable pushes and pulls. I felt myself be stimulated by him, completely at his mercy as he took away my virginity - one thrust at a time. It was like getting rid of a toy you didn't want anymore - you have it for a while and it keeps you a kid, and you feel like crap because you have to lose all that when they make you give it away. Yet it feels good to grow up, and it was up to me when to do it. I felt indestructible at that moment, realising that I, Marco Bodt, was fully in control of what happened to my body. With a mindset like that in mind, I paused from stroking myself and outstretched my grip to touch his defined body. As he moved inside me, grunting out sweet nothings into the nothingness, I moved my body with him, trying to make sure he explored as much as he could. 

He broke his initial upright posture before lying down on me and pressing my legs down to my chest, my knees hitting my tummy. He vigorously kissed me while holding my body in place, clawing at my thighs, before angling his pelvis upwards facing downwards, and exaggerating his movements. He moved deeper and more fully, pressing his full erection from the base up inside me. I whimpered out loud as his teeth and toungue were plastered on my neck, as he gave me more and more from all sides. He didn't relent, and I didn't ask him to. We were madly intertwined in the most erotic sense, pushing into each other, faster and faster with each passing second.

Almost immediately, I felt a carnal pleasure immediately explode in my body as it became self aware. I could feel myself feeling dense as I lost all sense of modesty and civility, feeling the climax approach; suppressed screams and energy breaking out in a frenzy as I felt the sensation reach my pelvis.

"Fuck the cum out of me, Jean!"

I immediately cried out in a rampage as I felt myself unload back onto my chest and stomach as Jean continued thrusting deep and sporadic pushes inside me while my climax spewed out. Never once holding my breath, I whimpered and moaned, expressive every animalistic need that was hiding inside me, from my wiggling toes to the inside of my stomach to my clenched teeth. He gave on final thrust inside me until my flow stopped, letting gravity pull down the last few free drops back onto me as he lay there, deeply as possible, his head facing down on a pillow adjacent to mine. 

It was like recoil from a car crash or firing a gun; you lose all sense of space and time for a few seconds as your minds tries to pick up the pieces again when it's over. As I felt the cum drip down from my stomach to his sheets, I felt the heat around me dissipate to an even, hot layer of air. The sweat I was ignoring the whole time suddenly became apparent as it stuck Jean and I's bodies on the bed, while the sweat in the air suffocated me and made me itch. Already tipsy from before, I tried to refocus my eyesight to whatever struck the most sense to me. Looking back down from the ceiling, I could only see him, his massive size still on top of me, resting up and down as his breaths came and left him, with his gaze hidden by sheets and pillows.

I could still feel him inside of me, and my rapidly diminishing erection was now soaked in cum while the rest lay in a pool on my abdomen. The discomfort of the position we were having sex in finally struck me as I tried to move and relax my muscles. After a few thrashes in place, Jean got the message and stood up, carefully pulling out his still-erect cock from inside me. My feet lay back down on the bed, as I let myself catch a break and find my breath again.

I look around my environment in a haze, my eyes trying to adjust to the night and focus on anything other than myself. The lazy, still fan suspended on the ceiling, his cupboards with clothes hastily strewn about, his desk, chair and schoolbooks arranged neatly on the side of the wall, the darkness of the night enshrouding them all. I felt him flop down on the bed beside me while I started to curl my feet up, feeling the sickly ooze drip down the side of my body. 

Being my first time, I didn't know if that was normal. Maybe it was commonplace to feel like you -  _lose_ something - yet it all felt out of place. Like a Mona Lisa jigsaw puzzle where you try to jam the wrong fragments of a masterpiece in all the wrong spots. The guy of my dreams, still hard, was lying down naked beside me, I reached the ultimate culmination of whatever fantasy I had about him, and yet when I lay there, in a wet, sticky puddle of myself and having recently been de-virginised, it all just felt wrong. Depraved. Too debauched for people like me. 

I don't really know why, but my muscles moved on their own as I started to curl my legs and my arms up to my body, trying to pointlessly hide my body in the already blanketed air of the room. My breathing started to hitch, and the stench of alcohol and coitus that so-enticed me before now just felt like a stingy mass of air down my lungs, filling them with corruption and shame. I started clawing at my thighs, desperate to grab onto something and make myself feel less naked. My nonchalant gazing turned into a rattled search, trying to find any light source strong enough to permeate the room aside the blurry moonlight.

Suddenly, I felt the mattress sink down again and his figure lie on his side, staring at me. He quickly raised his knee and leaned on it on the bed, as he raised his hand towards me.

"My turn," he simply said, relentless in his reaching towards me. He outstretched his palm and made his way towards my body. 

I looked in fear at his large palm, zoning toward me and tighten in a clench.

"I.....I have to go," I abruptly said, before quickly getting up - pushing aside his hand in the process - and letting the residue drip down over my folded stomach and legs as I lay on the floor clawing at the nothingness, desperate to find my clothes.

I felt the mattress bulge upwards as his weight was taken off of it.

"What are you talking about?" he rhetorically remarked as he knelt down and grappled me with the force of both his hands, one on my shoulder and the other on my waist. "You got yours, now I get mine."

I was never one to call myself claustrophobic, but in between the lack of vision and his sweaty hands on my already naked body, my throat and stomach felt constricted and they both only continued to enclose.

"I can't. I can't.... Just let me - just let me go Jean" I simply said, relief from feeling the cold metal of my belt buckle as I reached around to fully get a hold of my jeans.

"I don't see why you...only you gets the fun," he replied, tightening his hold and moving his sweaty hands southwards down my body.

"Stop it!" I called out exasperated, frustrated by his pursuit. He wasn't backing down though, continuing his chase. He lifted my hand from holding my jeans and pulled it upwards as he bent sideways to plant kisses on my right side, above my rib. I started squirming underneath him, and as he held me closer to his naked body, the more I resisted - violently starting to force myself against him. 

Amidst his chuckles and inebriated demeanour, once his hands tried to hold me down to the floor, I snapped;

"Quit it!" I screamed, before managing to slip out from down under him. I watched him collapse on the floor and staying there, weighed down by his intoxication. After picking whatever fabrics I thought were mine off of the floor, I started to make my way out of the dark room and into whatever room wasn't here. Opening the door and letting the downstairs lighting creep inside, I turned and was about to sprint out the room, when I felt him grab my ankle.

I kicked off his grip in a fit of rage, and slapped him across the face with my bare hands.

I saw him fall to his side from his knelt position right where I struck him. I was just a myriad of emotions by that point: anger, violation, pity; I couldn't take it anymore. I ran to the bathroom just a few paces from where we were and left the darkness, the stench and the shame behind me. I felt my lungs start to heave violently as the hot air from the alcohol mixed with my dry throat and sweat, so I grabbed on to his sink and closed my eyes, one hand on my throat, grabbing it wildly, twisting and turning hoping to let the air out. With my free hand I slammed the door shut behind me and locked the door, and just held my head in front of the sink, feeling myself cough up violently as nothing came out. 

It grew more painful and more taxing, as I full felt myself clamp up. Small droplets of tears started to come out of my eyes as I tried to unswallow whatever emotion I was battling with in my chest, so I just gave up and just fell in my place, looking down at my naked, intimidating, disgusting body with my cum residue still on my stomach. With hands laying idly by my sides, legs bent and suspended in the air as I sat on his bathroom floor, I just let out everything I could in indistinct sobs and wheezes. I kept going at it for what felt like forever, just replaying every scene in my head; sequences in disorder, emotions both pleasant and dangerous thrown in the mixing pot that was my heart; I felt every conceivable sensation course throughout my body. In between heaving, I thought of his hands; how once soft instruments of affection turned into marring knives, scarring me across my body as every inch he explored became damaged goods. 

I couldn't look at myself anymore - I just grabbed the nearest box of tissue, wiped the stains on my stomach and the sweat off my  _everything_ , as I readjusted myself upright, picking up my clothes in the process. Piece by piece, article by article, I covered up myself with my briefs, jeans and shirt, trying to veil my places which I whored out to someone else, before ruffling my hair and looking back at myself in the mirror. I looked like hell; bloodshot eyes, mouth slightly ajar and mental state incredibly unhinged. Sweat continued to pour in, and I was still sore after our...experience. I closed my eyes and drew a long, hard breath before letting it out. It started to soothe me, as I felt my heartbeat calm down. In and out, in and out. With every breath I pieced myself back in my mind, small little fragments held together by glue. I could hear the party noises echo in the distant rooms behind Jean's wooden bathroom door, which brought me out of my thoughts. 

Realising it had been long enough, I unlocked the door.

I let the bass invade my eardrums again as my eyes readjusted to the scene in front of me, which was alarmingly similar to what I was seeing 20 minutes ago. Ever so slightly, I looked aside to Jean's room, catching faint shots of a figure still on the ground, lifeless, unmoving. Not even being able to withstand looking at him, I rushed to the outside of his door, and slammed his door shut, only registering minimal signs of movement. 

Deciding I had had enough of that place, I briskly made my way down the stairs. Upon arriving, I made my way through the crowds of neanderthals, acquaintances and nameless strangers as I tried to reach his front door. I was about to leave, until I caught sight of Berthold, smiling with some friends, Reiner included. He saw me about to leave and raised his cup to me with a wide smile. I didn't even try to reciprocate. Ever since I left that room I had all the joy sucked out of me - literally. He saw me on this and his expression quickly melted into one of curiousity and worry, but I didn't give him the chance. I closed the door behind me, letting the chill night air force itself onto my face.

One question remained - getting home. I did a quick replay of names in my head, dismissing familiar choices like mum or Jean. Sasha was also a non-option, as she had to get the car back to her parents, and I wanted to stall the "are you okays" for at least one weekend. Armin was the youngest of the group and wasn't eligible for a license at his age, and Connie would blab to Sasha, no doubt about that. I kept on standing, rooted in place as I picked my brain for an answer.

The front door opened.

I turned immediately to see who it was. Nothing special though; random faces I vaguely recalled from school. I just observed them, laughing their hearts out and clinging onto each other as they stumbled out, making their way to the front porch and on the pavement. Looking at them leave, one drunken foot in front of the other, I decided to turn my back to them as well, taking careful steps towards a general area in my head, as I tried to figure out a way home.

 

* * *

 

I crossed alleyways, gardens, street shops. Little places I passed by as I looked boredly ahead from a car seat. Little bits and pieces of places I briefly let into my head, finally experiencing them in detail. I walked for what seemed like hours, taking occasional turns as I worked my way through the city. The autumn bite was especially harsh, but I had a hoodie, faint traces of alcohol and a pace to keep me warm. I stared at the street lamps emanating little glows of warm light into the moonlight-drenched surrounding. The silver and yellows mixed with the black of the night, with a few ethereal fuzzes of snow daintily descending on the concrete. As I made my way to my neighbourhood, I caught the view of the distant skyline; nothing close to a New York City Facebook cover, but still dazzling to the quaint-hearted. Even at this hour, you could tell some apartments let their lights flicker on, mixing with the faraway streets to sporadically illuminate the scene. On my street, I looked down at my shoes, gazing at the way they hit the pavement each second, taking me further and further away from where I was and closer to where I wanted to be. Trudging my way up to my door, I took out a key from my jean pocket, inserted it and turned it open.

 

Feeling the door naturally turn outwards from me and granting me entry into my home, I walked in; simultaneously pushing back the shadows of the room with the faint glow of the moon. With what little vision I had, I re-entered the key in the keyhole, before closing the door behind me and re-engulfing myself in the dark. Knowing it to be shut, I re-locked the door, threw the keys on a nearby table and pranced up the staris, careful not to make a sound to disturb my mum from her sleep. The frigid air was non-existent at this point and I felt my clothes clamp onto my skin. 

Safely in my room, I threw my hoodie over my shoulders and onto a discarded pile on the floor, along with the rest of my clothing. I bent down and reached my phone out of my pocket, before reaching it out and placing it on my nightstand, plugging it into a nearby charger. Now almost naked and standing in place, I was at a loss on what to do, it being a Friday night after all. Or technically a Saturday morning. 

Too lethargic to even think about doing work, I instead flopped on my bed, quick to cover myself up. Efforts to fall asleep failed; no matter how tightly I shut my eyes or tried to distance my thinking from reality, I was stuck there in a huddled mess. Turning my position so I laid on my back, I let my legs drop to the side as I stared at my ceiling, admiring the mundane, endless little cracks on the surface. The pale creme colour didn't offer much of a distraction, so I naturally had no other alternative than to replay the night in my head.

The first time I went into his house, full of crowds dancing.

_Jean._

Bertl in the corner with his drink.

_Jean._

The way he pulled me by my hand and led me up the stairs.

_Jean. Jean. Jean._

I shut my eyes shut, as my legs starded fidgeting and my pelvis began to subtly move to the beat of nothing. My hands - which lay on my bear chest - began to move in little circles, as if on their own. 

_Jean....Jean._

I swallowed hard which left a bitter taste in my mouth, as my hands reached the top of my underwear, which was in turn beginning to tighten up. 

_Jean._

Not wanting to rush ahead, I just let them drop to my thighs, which I caressed with deep motions. I bucked my pelvis slightly in the air, grinding my semi on the fabric of my underwear.

I was about to unveil it when my phone rang.

It vibrated twice, violently on both occasions, as it shook with vigour on the wood-built nightstand which snapped me out of my thoughts. And just as things were starting to get good. Not knowing what it could be - e-mail, text, reminder - I decided to read it and just go back to what I was doing.

Text from Sasha:

" _So?? How did it go with him?? :)"_

I looked at her message for a while, as the heat from just then began to fade away and was replaced by a different sort of memories.

How we held me down and tried to keep it going. 

_Jean._

How he rushed to get ahead.

_Jean._

How we did something way before we should have.

_...Jean._

I looked down at myself, utterly disgusted and ashamed. I let someone rip through me in one night, and I let that vivid event go for a chance to get off again. As my phone screen brightened up the room and under my covers, I could clearly see the spaces which he took for himself, and there I was, moving my hands all over them again like an animal. My breathing started to hitch again, lungs suddenly beginning to feel cold again, before composing myself. After deep, sporadic breaths, I typed out an unimportant "I'll tell you tomorrow" kind of thing before tossing my phone aside and planting my head on my pillow. I crawled into fetal position, not giving the opportunity to my thoughts to wander off again. I held myself close and shut my eyes, desperate to find peace.


End file.
